


The Infant and the Maelstrom

by Iniora_Nackatori



Series: Infant and Maelstrom [1]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Everyone needs hugs!, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Finally finished!, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holy Architect this thing is as long as a novel, Malos Needs Hugs, Post Game AU, Post Game AU: The Novel?, Spoilers, TORNA needs hugs, Terrible with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 127,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iniora_Nackatori/pseuds/Iniora_Nackatori
Summary: Father decided to do something special for his children.  His children are of mixed opinion on Father’s gift.  Especially Malos.  Set post game.SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE GAME.





	1. Not On The List

**Author's Note:**

> So... I have a personal rule. Do not post something unless it is complete. However. The bunnies for this fic got pounced on by my cats and a reincarnation kick involving Cat!Jin (don't ask), and kind of left this one dangling. Its got its first "arc" if you will complete enough to stand on its own, so. Have at.
> 
> Welcome to Mor Ardain.
> 
> Secondary note: This was started before Golden Country game out. Some of it is not canon compliant any more, but not so out of canon as to make it AU, I think.

Of all the things he thought would happen, _breathing_ hadn’t made the list by a Titan pede.

But here he was. Breathing. Hearing waves lapping against cliff rocks. Feeling a breeze tug at his hair and armor. Smelling –

“Ugh” Oh yeah. Nothing quite equaled the stench of rotting fish. Which lead to the question of what the heck was going on. Starting with…

“I know you’re there.”

A terrified squeak of sound; barely a sound at all. Like something or someone too small trying too hard to squeeze themselves into an even smaller package. With that sound came… a feeling.

_What. The hell._

He was scared. Except the fear he felt wasn’t _his_. The fear was like walking into a room full of mirrors and seeing reflections of someone else who had come into the same room from a different entrance. He could see that fear, know that fear, and know that fear wasn’t his, but still be affected by it. It was creepy as a Titan’s armpit.

“Come out!” he yelled at the – the whatever was causing this.

Another frightened squeak and the fear intensifying to the point it felt akin to fragments of glass grating against his knuckles. Tightening his grip on his weapon, he turned to face that _thing_ , that source of this.

“Hiding behind a _rock_ won’t _save you_!”

The rock crumbled under his fingers with a pretense of protest. Weapon lifted, blazing bright with energy, he –

_Oh…_

A human. A small human; small as a teenage Nopon. He could pick them up and hold them in one arm, not because of his strength but because they were so small. Weak. Scared and hungry and hurting.

“Oh. Oh _hell_. Oh Father _no_. No!”

Backing away fast, he tripped on rocks, dropped his weapon, and fell to his ass. Not his finest moment – but he was _not_ feeling his finest. He was supposed to be _dead_ and space dust. The bond between him and Amal-- _his first Driver, may he rot in hell_ – snapped, broken to kindling. His task was _done_. He’d died trying to end the world as was his fate! There was no reason for him to exist. No reason for him to _be_. His Core Crystal had been atomized!

“No no no! This _cannot_ be happening!”

The little human uncurled a fraction. He could _feel_ how frightened they still were, but how the fear was so familiar by now they could _think_ through it. It was the shock – the intensity of everything which had made them immobile. And since the big, scary monster was now distracted, it was time to risk –

“Don’t! Move!”

The fear ratcheted back up to the point the human was immobile again. Good.

“How did you find me?” When all the human did was whimper, he advanced. “How? What happened, exactly, before I appeared?” Another whimper. “ _Tell me!_ ”

Fear. A scattering of hunger and fishnets and – blinky lights.

“This!” He tapped his weapon’s crystal. “Did you see a gem like this?”

A nod made up more of fear than of affirmation.

“Did you _touch_ it?”

Another fearful nod.

What the hell. He reiterated, “What the _hell_!” Impossible as it was, his Core Crystal had been preserved or restored or… or _something_. It had fallen to Alrest – _he_ had fallen to Alrest. Had landed here, wherever in the Cloud Sea _here_ was. Had been _found_ by a sniveling small _human_ who had then… then… _resonated_ with him. Titan’s _foot_. He had a Driver. A Driver who was a cowardly, sniveling, hungry, terrified, _human_ brat!

A tiny, tiny, _tiny_ part of himself pointed out that the human had a right to be terrified, watching an angry humanoid rend the cliff-side or coastline or whatever into gravel. That the tiny part sounded like Jin made everything worse.

“Alright,” he panted. “Alright. I’m _fine_. It’s _fine_.”

The human didn’t believe him but wasn’t about to argue.

“You.” There wasn’t room or space to hide. A plus rating for effort. “What’s your name?” When all he got was a whimper, he stomped towards the human. “Your _name_!”

Nothing. Not even a whimper. Just terror and hunger all wrapped up into a single knotted ball. Titan’s droppings… Was he going to have to do everything himself?

“ _Stay_ here. Do _not_ move.”

And of course the brat wasn’t about to obey. But whatever. Wasn’t like he wouldn’t be able to find the brat later, after he was done… fishing. Or whatever. What the hell was edible around here, anyway? The landscape hadn’t looked too vibrant before he’d released his frustrations on a sizable chunk of it. The ocean had some fi-- what. Where were the clouds? Huh. Must have been a lake instead of an ocean. Though if it was a lake, it was a sizable one. He had good light and a clear sky and the opposite shore was beyond even his sight. But the fish _were_ visible. And so were a handful of crustips. One medium crustip could make for some good eating.

Gauging the distance, he jumped.

* * *

 

Two small, three medium, and one jumbo crustip provided no real exercise to work out his boiling frustration. A smattering of krabble were minor annoyances; collateral damage caught by his blade. Fresh fish had bobbed to the surface, having fallen to the assorted rocks his earlier frustrations had sent crashing into the lake. All in all, it was enough food to feed at least three humans. Hauling all that dead weight back _up_ the cliff was a physical challenge. No need to think. Just act and react.

The human wasn’t where he’d left them. No matter. He’d found enough foliage to start a decent fire. Smashing a few more rocks to form a makeshift fire pit improved his mood further. Cooking wasn’t really his thing, but even a novice like him couldn’t screw up crustips claws. Leaning the claws such that they were over rather than in the fire, he headed for –

For a spark of terror that accompanied a _romph_ of a volff.

Looked like they were getting some red meat to go with the crustips.

 _Sadness_ , rolling with all the force of a punch to the gut.

“You know it was going to eat you.”

The human’s lower lip quivered. Its eyes were wide and shining and it even looked like it was going to… Aw, Titan’s foot. The human was crying. Over a volff. That tiny voice which sounded too much like Jin pointed out that seeing anything get decapitated, even a volff mid-lunge to eat you, would be enough to drive the average human to tears.

Stowing his weapon for now, he scooped up the human in one arm. It squirmed and wriggled and sobbed – Father, could it _scream_.

“Fine. Fine!”

Digging out a trench one handed wasn’t hard. Neither was dumping the volff’s body and head into said trench. Another flick of his weapon, and the trench was sealed.

“Better?”

A wet sniffle affirmative.

Rolling his eyes, “Great,” he headed back towards what was turning into camp. “Look. Brat. I am your Blade, like it or not. Your safety is my responsibility. That means, when I say _stay put_ , you need to _stay put_. Got it?”

The human was acting like it hadn’t heard a word. The feelings of fear he felt coming off the human were swamped with a straightforward hunger at the smell of cooked crustips. Plain crustpis. Cloud Sea’s drippings – when people were drooling over unsalted crustips claws, there were _problems_.

He put the human down on a lump of rock roughly approximating the shape of a seat. The claws were all a nice even red color. Cracking the casing of one, he put it in front of the human. Then had to pull it away again before the human could burn themselves on the hot flesh.

“Go at it like that, and you’ll burn your mouth bad enough you won’t be able to eat anything for a day.” He waved the claw to cool the meat enough for consumption. Then had to sit next to the human and forcibly slow them down before they choked. “Slow down, brat. There are more where that came from. When was the last time you ate?”

The brat gave the question some consideration. Then shrugged.

Disregarding how the hair on the back of his neck was starting to stand _straight_ up, he made sure the human wasn’t going to choke on dinner before grabbing his own claw. “What’s your name, brat?”

“...Millie...”

Quiet. Might not have even been spoken. Handing over the next claw to the brat, he decided to take it as it came.

“The name’s Malos.” Ripping into the claw’s meat with his teeth was entirely too satisfying. “And I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

* * *

 

The brat was unconscious less than five minutes after eating their fill. _Her_ fill, if Malos wanted to get technical. Scrawny lump of a thing. Barely plumper than a pile of bones. The brat had eaten so much, her tummy was a visible lump under her garments.

 _Heh. That shit’s only clothing if you’re_ technical _about it. No pants. No shoes. A shirt that doesn’t even cover her ass._

If she’d been, say, Patroka’s age, that kind of outfit – or lack of same – would have gotten her tossed into either the red light district or a jail cell, depending on which type of procurer got to her first. Either would be a boon in this kid’s case. The shirt was so much torn rough spun cotton held together by threads and patchwork knitting. Dirt caked the kid’s exposed flesh; was thick enough to be a pair of makeshift sandals on her feet. And the less said about her hair, the better.

Playing with a shard of leftover claw, Malos considered the situation.

Moving swiftly past _the_ _mess_ which was Malos not being dead... Where he was, was up for debate. Alrest, obviously. But a part of Alrest he'd never seen before. Might be mistaken for Mor Ardain given the lack of -- well. Everything. Minimal vegetation, lots of loose rock and soil, and an arid dryness to the wind. Krabel, custips, and volff could be found in all corners of Alrest -- so, not going to be able to narrow it down using the local wildlife. The skyline having remnants of skyscrapers wasn't helping much.

_Either I've been out of it for a hell of a long while... or we're near Moyrtha._

Funny. Already thinking "we" instead of "me". Doing so _felt_ second nature; like the instinct to use his weapon. Well... it could have been habit. Jin's Torna was as much about teamwork as it was about blowing the world to ash.

...had been. _Had been_. Malos had known Jin had signed his own execution orders, staying behind like he had. Mik’ would have taken out Indol or died trying. Patroka and Akhos... their fates didn't bare thinking on too much. The Praetor being within fifty peds of them had sealed their end. Didn't make it hurt any less.

"So. Just me. A brat. And Father only knows what."

First things first: Find civilization. Stash the brat someplace moderately safe. Steal her some fresh cloths -- because Malos had a sense of propriety, even if he'd only gotten it by Ahkos beating it into his head via bad, bad, _bad_ , trashy dramas. And then find out what had been going on. Which begged the question of: Then what? Did he keep going on his whole destroy the world thing? Find Mythra and beat the snot out of her and her brat Driver? Turn hermit and meek out a worthless existence in the foothills?

_...yeah. Not gonna be that last one._

The brat was starting to shiver. Getting any closer to the fire might _set_ her on fire. Crustips shells insulated like crap. Couldn't skin that volff in a hurry, and Malos knew jack about curing hides. Which left...

"Ugh."

At this stage, Malos didn't have a clue if he'd revert to a Core Crystal when the brat died. Before, he'd been at full strength when his first Driver had kicked the bucket. The loss hadn't so much as dented his resolve. Right now, he felt maybe... three quarters strength? Need to check that... But.

Getting up, Malos walked over to the brat, stripping his upper armor as he went. Wouldn't be the best blanket ever... but at least she wouldn't freeze.

"No need to take unnecessary risks right now, right?"

Right. And keeping the brat in his lap was common sense. Faster to move if he already had a hand on her.

Sleep came fitfully after that.

* * *

 

Something warm and wet dribbled down his leg, serving as a wake up call. Taking a minute to consider his location, what was in his lap, and the smell, Malos realized this had been a bad idea. A rational bad idea, yes. Far from the worse idea he'd ever had. Still -- a _bad_ idea.

"Who let you out of the house without making sure you were potty trained first?" Malos demanded. At least the brat -- Millie, wasn't it? -- had the brains to look abashed.

"We're going to work on that, brat." Picking up and then depositing the bratling aside, Malos figured the fastest way to clean this up was a swim. Probably the fastest way to clean her up, too. "You know how to swim?" Of course it didn't matter if she didn't. The nip in the morning air meant the water would be too cold to risk dunking a human.

A scared shudder. The brat curled up to hide in his armor. A tactically sound move; if not an _annoying_ move. She was spreading filth around inside his armor -- huh. _Wonder if that's why she doesn't have pants?_

"Stay put, got it?"

Not waiting for a response, Malos headed for a dip. And to fish up some breakfast.

* * *

 

Breakfast was as flat and tasteless as expected. Millie ate slowly and deliberately, like she was trying to forget this morning even happened. Or maybe trying to remember how to eat at all. She didn't feel like she had a fever but she... In the late morning light, she did not look well. At all.

"You remember how you got out here?" Malos demanded.

A thinking frown. Then a vague pointing gesture down the cliff's easy slope and away from the lake/sea/whatever. It wasn't much so far as directions went. Malos grit his teeth and reminded himself he'd worked with worse.

"I'll carry you, got it? So you better tell me you've got to take a bathroom stop _before_ dumping on me." The implied _or else_ caused the brat to nod affirmative. "Now that we've got _that_ settled -- finish eating. I want to get moving while we've got good light."

The brat shoved aside the meal as though his suggestion were an order to be executed immediately. Which -- fair enough. Malos had said he wanted to get moving quickly as possible.

"Bathroom," Malos half inquired, half ordered.

When Millie shook her head negative, Malos trashed the fire so that crustip shells were the sole evidence of their passing. Grabbing the brat gently yet firmly around her middle Malos started a -- to him -- leisurely jog in the direction Millie had indicated.

* * *

 

Less than a Titan pede away there was a village. At least, the ashes of one.

Malos didn't bother to check if whoever had raided the place had left anything behind. What he did bother to check was the one building still structurally sound. Leaving Millie with a firm order to wait in the building's largest room, Malos hunted down what he could find. Wasn't much. Tubers, some meaty carrots, a pittance of salt -- and three rough blankets to go with shirts big enough to make even Malos feel like he was swimming in them. No soap of any kind.

 _Clean shirt should help the brat a little,_ Malos figured. Which brought up a host of questions on what he should do about said brat. _Can't let her die until I figure out if I'll revert or not. Hell. I don't even know how to take care of kids!_

Jin would have known. From what Malos knew of Jin's history, the Blade has pretty much raised his Driver. Guy was more of a parent than the humans Malos had (briefly) met.

"Damn. I need to find humans."

Instinct bit. With _teeth_.

 _This place is_ not _safe._

Which was like saying water was wet. This was a village that had been burned to the ground by bastards who didn't care enough about their victims to give them so much as a grave marker, much less a burial --

Fire. Day old cooked meat. _All you can eat buffet_ so far as monsters cared _._ Volff that had been in the area had been small but not cub small. Malos felt his eyes widening and pulse starting to pound as the pieces fit together. He was standing at ground zero for a monster swarm in the making.

And then -- the gunshots started. Because _of course._

Brat secured with the supplies into a makeshift blanket pouch, weapon drawn and powered. There wasn't time to plan for more than an ugly confrontation with how the gunshots were being accompanied by the bass _boom_ of cannon fire. Barely time to tell Millie to, "Hold on," before a pack of six mid-sized volff were on them.

The one pack turned into two packs. Then some goff showed up. Might have been a couple of flying enemies, too. By time Malos made it to the source of the gun and cannon shots, the party -- such as it was -- was in full swing.

Ardanian solders. _Great_. At least Malos knew what Titian he was on. Finding the first solder with rank cords on their shoulder, Malos handed off the dead weight.

"Hold this! _Don't_ drop it."

The sputtering soldier shut up when Malos cleaved a lunging beastie in half. And then the fight was in full swing, leaving Malos without any spare attention for the little details like who was yelling what obscenity his direction.

Too damn soon for Malos's liking, the fight was done. Maybe... just in time, he should say. He was breathing hard and his heart was pounding and his limbs burned with fatigue. Standing straight was turning into a challenge.

"Unreal..." one of the Soldiers hissed from the safety of his unit's anonymity.

"You a Blade?" asked the one with a pointy top to his hat.

Malos nodded; his breath wasn't catching up with him. Like he was being choked --

No. This was like the fear he'd felt when he'd first woken up. Just... worse. Concentrated with the immediacy of the danger.

The soldiers got out of his way. One, he might have shoved. The idiot with rank bars had set the bundle aside, on the ground, where cannon carrying Titan footprints _too fucking close_ were stamped around it. Near reckless with the fact he _couldn't breathe_ Malos ripped into the bundle. The brat was too pale; there was a dribble of vomit down her front, and her rear was stained yellow brown. What part of don't drop this had turned into set it on the ground? Never should have let go of his brat in the first place.

A hand slapped against Malos's shoulder. An Ardanian solder had shucked off his helmet. Gormotti ears in a tangle of forest darkened hair was a shock. Moving with swift efficiency, the Gormotti Ardanian had his hands over Millie's chest. Adjusting Malos's hold, the Gormotti was saying something about breathing and idiots and that expletive was one Malos would have to remember. Patroka would like it. More soldiers crowded around. One handed something that looked like a water bottle over to the Gormotti.

"-- dehydrated. How long -- Oi. Don't you go into shock on us!"

The Gormotti shook Malos roughly with one hand. With the other he was forcing Malos to cradle the brat close enough her head bumped Malos's Core Crystal. The bottle was being pressed into her mouth; with the haste of instinct, she startled suckling on the end. An endless minute of watching past. Then, taking too many seconds for comfort, the choking feeling eating at Malos receded.

"I... Yeah," Malos acknowledged.

"Yeah, what?" the Gormotti demanded.

"Yeah, I'm here. I'm... here."

Father. Malos's words sounded hollow to his own ears.

"You're damn near bad off as she is," the Gormotti said, more to himself than Malos. "How'd you hook up with a baby?"

"Hell if I know." ...and then the gold piece dropped. "Wait, _what?!_ "

"That kiddo 's two years old if she's a day. Damn lucky she isn't already in the Architect's hands." The Gormotti ticked off on his fingers, "Dehydrated. Malnourished. Nasty spot of the runs. Near asphyxiation. Should be blue as winter and dead as ice. It's a Titan born miracle she isn't."

Or Father meddling from beyond the grave. Which would be just... no. Titan's foot, _no_.

Malos drug a, "Thanks," out. Somehow.

The Gormotti just nodded. Then he turned his back to Malos and said to someone -- his ranking officer? -- that, "Sir. We need a med evac. This little one's too ill for anything we've got to do more than prolong 'er sufferin'."

"Your Blade," someone started to say.

"What's he gonna do? Unless someone in our company resonated with a healer-class Blade and forgot to say so," the Gormotti shot back. "I keep telling you lot. Blades are awesome powers," he gestured to Malos's wrought chaos all around them, "but they're just like us. You can't toss an instrument man into a munitions factory and expect 'im _not_ to blow 'imself up!"

Which effectively summed up how Malos had screwed up this time. ...sort of. He hadn't tossed Millie into munitions. Just used his own ignorance to set her up to die.

_And that bugs me, why?_

Food for thought. Later.

"Evac ain't gunna happen, Jac. Whole area 's too hot. Got too many people in the way of trouble. Can't route a unit our direction for one kid." The words were bitter; frustrated and angry. Malos could all but taste the speaker's leashed loathing.

"We're heading for the capital anyway," another soldier pointed out.

The one with an extra pointy helmet ordered, "Do what you can, Driver Jac. The rest of you sorry louts -- form up ranks and let's get moving. Double time, now!"

 _Form up ranks_ seemed to translate to _toss Malos and the kid in the cannon transport_. Not that Malos was complaining, exactly. It was cramped, hot, and stunk worse than rotting fish. But, it was a smooth ride, more or less. Keeping the brat in his lap was soothing, somehow. Settled an itch around his Core Crystal Malos hadn't realized was there. So long as Millie kept breathing, things couldn't go too bad. Which was all kinds of crazy that needed a good long looking at. Later.

"What's 're name?"

"Millie," Malos answered absently. Sleep had its claws in him and Malos was loosing the fight.

"'nd yours?"

"Logos."

Like a flipped switch, Malos was out for the count.


	2. Medic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just take a second and say how flattered I was at how quickly this fic was pounced on? Thank you for all the kudos and comments!

Starlight rolls out beneath his feet in a soft glowing roadwork tapestry. Above are stars made brilliant without atmosphere to dull their shine. Below the world bathed in starlight turns slow upon its axis. Life licks it's wounds and begins to flourish anew.

"Hello, Logos."

The voice is as familiar as it is unrecognizable. Looking up -- at least, it feels like looking -- he can see a man half eaten by a void. Wrinkles are etched deep into the man's features, forming pits and valleys. What isn't swallowed by void or wrinkled is desiccant and aged to the consistency of jerky.

"What am I doing here?" he hears himself ask.

A nod negative from the aged man. "I know not. It was I who set the stage, but not I who brought you here." A pause for him to digest this. "Why do you think you are here?"

He thinks on the question. The world turns slowly on its axis.

"I'm lost," he answers.

"But now, you are found."

The words hang jewel-like in the air -- before it's all washed into white blinding nothingness.

* * *

 

The instinct not to fall was what let Malos snatch out a hand against the closest slice of wall in time to keep him from falling out of the patchwork bunk.

 _Breathe._ Breathe _, damnit!_

There was no aggravating pull from that itchy spot around his Core Crystal. No sounds of gun or cannon fire. The sweaty, ugly tang of too many unwashed bodies in a confined space was almost too much to bare today. Begged the question of how he'd even fallen asleep.

"You awake there?"

"I am _now_ ," Malos grumbled. Another beat to get his breathing back in order, and Malos swung himself to his feet. There wasn't a need to adjust his balance: The Titan cannon had stopped. "What's going on? Why're we stopped? And where's my brat?"

The soldier ticked up one finger. "Need to let the Titan cool down, 'else we risk killing the poor sod." A second. "Everybody needs ta eat sometime." A third. "Driver Jac set 'er up with a makeshift crib. Thought it best to get 'er some fresh air to go with the stale crackers."

"Hell," Malos grumbled. "If there's one thing I think we've all learned this week, it's Millie _hates_ those damn crackers."

The other solder squeezed around at the far side of the Titan's controls barked a laugh. "For a Blade who claims to hate everythin', Logos, you sure do have a soft spot for the lass."

"It's called self preservation. You should try it some time," Malos snarled back. Rather than tremble in fear, both soldiers laughed, loudly and uproariously.

"Go on then," the first soldier waved to shoo him out. "Go check on your lass. See if she can't get yer nickers untwisted."

"Twit," Malos shot in parting.

Both soldiers just kept laughing.

 _It was easier when they all hated me,_ Malos told himself. And ignored the unsettling feeling that Jin would be disappointed Malos was thinking like that.

The evening air was cool against his face, and filled with the newly familiar scents of machine oil and all the other crap that went with a Mor Ardain Titan cannon squad. Giving them the name Logos hadn't been voluntary -- Father's back end, Malos wasn't even sure where _Logos_ had come from. Father had called him that, but... It didn't matter. If he had introduced himself as Malos, the Ardanians would have tried to kill him out of self defense. Then the brat would have died, and Malos -- much as he hated to admit the fact, still coming to terms with it as he was -- would have been stuck as a lifeless hunk of glowing rock. Which would have sucked _worse_ than enduring a name that wasn't his, jeers which sounded too much like _home_ , and a weird itch around his Core Crystal.

At least Malos didn't have to deal with baby poop any more. Those crackers tasted like dried shit, but whatever Jac did to them had seen Millie go from near dead to a good few Titan pedes from death's door in less than five days. She still looked like shit, but. Improvement. It also seemed to fix up her bowels somewhat, to the point she was regular. Could damn near set a clock off her movements.

_And cue the screaming._

The shout wasn't an articulate "no". It was high enough to scratch Malos's ears. And it kept going, and going, right over Jac's attempts to be soothing and patient.

Malos announced himself by (gently. Comparatively speaking) kicking the crate Millie was bundled into. The scream cut off. The brat hiccuped. Mulish golden brown eyes locked onto Malos. She took an untrained lungful of air, ready and willing to start again.

"Ever had applesauce?" Jac asked.

Instead of a scream, they got a hiccup.

"Not enough rations to make a good applesauce," Jac continued conversationally. "But between the rations and the foraging it's enough to make something like applesauce. It tastes better than the crackers."

" _Road dust_ tastes better than the crackers," Malos opined. The brat sniffled exuberant agreement.

Jac ignored the byplay with a practiced air. From a small tin container, he lifted out a utensil smothered in rich smelling purple goop paste. From Malos's point of view it looked as appetizing as stepped on dirt. But the brat was eyeing it with considerable concentration. Jac brought the utensil low enough for the brat to get a good, long look. Frowning in concentration, the kid lifted up her hands in a poorly coordinated grab. A little of the goop got on her fingers; a sufficient amount for a taste test, as the gooped fingers went right to her mouth.

Malos strangled a smile before it could do more than make his lips twitch. Damn stupid _itch_. Seeing the brat grin shouldn't have made him want to... To do _something_ that _wasn't him._

Smiling openly, Jac began to dish out more purple goop a dollop at a time. The brat sat close to attention, watching, waiting with wide eyes for Jac to bring the utensil to her mouth. Without prompting she gobbled the goop down.

"You're... good. At this," Malos quantified. He'd seen Jac fight; his _Blade_ was military sharp. Jac was soft. Inexperienced.

"I'm the oldest of four brothers and sisters." Jac still worked attentively to feed the brat, but his thoughts were peds away. Gently, he shook himself back to the here and now. "We're holding base here for a few hours. Long enough for everyone to get some decent sleep."

Malos could hear the unsaid _but_ coming from a continent away.

"And long enough for us to scavenge for resupply."

At least the other shoe did not stay airborne long.

"You want me to go with the foraging party," Malos guessed dryly.

"You do have a knack for finding live jerky," Jac acknowledged.

Which was the best way they'd found to say Malos turned bundits into bundit soup ingredients without upsetting the brat's delicate sensibilities. Father, what was _with_ her wanting to hug _everything_? She'd crawled up into Malos's hair at least once while he was asleep to torture him -- sorry. _Help_ him comb it. If it looked like it had the slightest odds of being fluffy, the brat targeted it with a will that Malos reluctantly -- very, _very_ , grudgingly -- respected. From a _significant_ distance, the brat's stubbornness could be mistaken for his own.

Malos shrugged. "Sure. Fine. Why not. Gotta pay for room and board and all that crap."

"Good." Jac caped the stuff and stored it before standing. "Alley-up."

Malos turned, not sure he wanted to watch the brat giggling against someone else's shoulders. Father was smiting him -- had to be, for his head to be this messed up. The idiot dream from earlier was the recent capstone to four/five/however many days of feeling... off. Emotionally and physically. Some of it had to do with the World Tree being destroyed and Father finally dying. The rest was... harder to source.

And the fact he now had the brat in his arms was _not helping_. Even if her cuddling against his chest, curly dark hair brushing against his Core Crystal, made the... the _jumble_ of feelings inside him slow down. The brat was unabashedly vibrant with her trust in others -- her trust in _him_. Couldn't she see Malos was the last damn person she should trust?

So. Right. Yawning brat. _Not_ helping. ...though she was cute.

 _Father damn it,_ no. _As soon as I figure out how to get power enough to not need a Driver, I am getting the hell out of here!_

Because the brat was _doing_ something to him. The fact that damn stupid itch around his Core Crystal settled every time he got within eyesight of the brat proved it.

Another jaw cracking yawn drifted up from the brat. Without thinking, Malos shifted his hold so that her chin was on his shoulder. Mumbled attempts at words drifted from her like sleepy fishes. Tiny hands clenched as much of Malos as they could hold. Utterly, uncomplicated -- something. Not love. He was _Malos_ , the end-bringer, the Aegis of Destruction. It was _impossible_ for him to feel love -- _emotions_ drifted from the brat, and clung to Malos with all the tenacity of desert sand. Malos bounced the brat in a mimic of what he'd seen Jac do before. More sleepy burbles proceeded an indelicate belch.

 _Out_ , Malos knew.

Quiet as he could, Malos lowered Millie back into the makeshift crib. Somewhere on the other side of the cannon there was a clatter of tents being set up; a dull cacophony as the rest stop got turned into an overnight camp. The brat remained oblivious to it all, well and truly unconscious.

"It's another week until the capital," Jac noted, voice soft out of difference to Millie napping. Malos arched an eyebrow at him. "The commander's got us moving as fast as we can. If there were an established settlement or base with a medic, we'd detour there. But there's not. And the medicine we've got isn't meant for babies."

The unfamiliar feeling of dread settled like a lump in Malos's gut. "What are you saying?"

Jac took a deep breath; the _anger_ , generalized and directed at everything at large, washed off the kid in a palpable wave. The hit was hard enough Malos bit his tongue. Then, just like that, the anger was swallowed and mangled into acceptance and -- not peace. Just... acceptance.

"If she weren't a Driver with a Blade looking out for her, she'd be dead," Jac stated, blunt. "She's got a low grade fever that's been gradually getting worse. The dehydration got corrected, but the malnutrition can't, not when all that's available is field rations. And there were rumors, in the capital. Reports of a new disease sweeping through all the kingdoms. Its not a killer in adults, and if kids and the elderly get the right medicine they can make it."

"You think she's got it?" Malos might have something himself. It was getting hard to breathe; hard to focus past _she's gonna die and you can't do crap about it._

"She's at greater risk than average."

Shit. Malos couldn't think about this right now. Couldn't deal with this. _Any_ of this.

"The scavenging team is mustering at the starboard side of the Titan."

And Malos _definitively_ could not deal with _pity_. Wordless, he put his back to Jac and the brat and -- got the hell out of there.

* * *

 

Waking up was too easy. There was too much noise and light and her head hurt 'nd her tummy was empty. There wasn't that pressure that meant potty time. But it _was_ snack time. There wasn't anybody around. The Little wasn't hers was far away. Big was -- farther. Too far to see. Big was scared and angry. Big was always angry. Big needed more naps.

Big needed more naps and she was stuck in this Thing. It was small as she was. The blankets were okay but not fluffy. Maybe her Big would bring fluffies? No, Big didn't like fluffies. Big hit fluffies with his sword and made then go away. Big hated fluffies.

Her Big hated a lot of things. He needed a lot more naps.

She tried making some noise. The not-her Little and his friend like Big didn't hear her. She waited patiently to see if anyone else heard. Nobody else heard her, because nobody came.

Having endured as much as anyone sane could expect her to, she decided to leave. It wasn't very hard. There weren't locks or gates on the Thing to keep her from crawling over the edge. It wasn't high up, either. 'least not high up enough to keep her from being deterred. Landing on her bottom was hard, but not as hard as other landings she'd made.

This place was big. Bigger than her Big. And since no one was stopping her, there wouldn't be any problems with her looking around on her own. Adults were just silly. What did they know anyway? Their crackers tasted pew-pew. But... They did have good applesauce. So maybe they all weren't total ding-nuts. Ding-nuts was a funny word. Maybe she could ask Big what a ding-nut was. ...maybe not. Big was scary more often than he wasn't.

Ooh! Glitter-sparkle-want!

They'd put the glittery sparkly up high! How was anybody supposed to get it if it was so high up? Proof adults were all ding-nuts. Frustrated, she sat on her rump and thought hard. Adults were ding-nuts, so there _had_ to be a way to get the sparkly.

Ah-hah! There was a Soft underneath the sparkly! All she had to do was grab the Soft and the sparkly would fall down.

Now, to get the Soft, she needed to put her hands _here_ so she could stand up. Walking was hard -- she managed the lotta steps needed to get closer to the Soft. Then she could crawl up using the rough not-stacked-neat pile of Thingies. The edges were hard and made her hands and feet hurt. But, it was hard enough she could keep her grip if she toddled carefully.

She couldn't go all the way to the top of the pile of Thingies. She got to the tall flat Thing that was smaller than the Thing da had sat at for so many boring hours. Which was right where she wanted to get. _Now_ she could stand up and _stretch_ and get her fingers on the Soft. Gripping firm, she plopped back down.

The glitter-sparkle-mine fell to the ground with a huge _ka-crack-crash!_ Glittering shards blasted out from around it in all directions -- even straight up! Oooh, bother... She hoped she hadn't broke her glitter-sparkly.

Crawling down was harder than crawling up. Her hands were tired and her feet were sore, and so she slipped halfway down the Thingy stack. Worse, this time there was a sharp pain when she landed on her rear. At least she still had the Soft. Wrapping it around her so that her sore bits were on Soft instead of hard dirt, she made haste to her sparkly.

What a sparkly it was! It wasn't a shape she knew. All its edges were hard/smooth, not sharp but not soft. It glittered in a pretty blue light with even prettier glitters of red inside! And it was warm... She chewed on it to better taste its warmth and softness and figure out its shape. It had its own kind of glitter that tickled her mouth. The warm was familiar, though. Where had she felt it before...

The sparkly was the same kind of warm as Big's sparkly before it had turned into Big! Maybe she shouldn't...

But it was warm. And she was feeling tired and cold. She leaned against the sparkly, the same way she'd leaned against Big.

The sparkly got hot. It twisted and twirled out of her grip; spun light and color all over. Yellow white sparks danced in the air around her. As soon as the lights had started, they stopped, and a person smaller than Big but like Big was standing in front of her.

"My." The person pushed up red glasses -- that was the word, right? -- so that they sat on his nose. "I... can't say I was expecting much? I certainly was not expecting someone _quite_ so young." The person knelt down. Their hands were warm as they picked her up to cradle her in one arm. "But, you are my Driver, odd as that is. Are you even past teething?"

She blinked at him.

"No need to answer. It was a rhetorical question. Then again, I'm not even sure you _can_ answer." They pushed the red glasses-thingies so they sat closer to his dark eyes. "You're not at all well, are you. Lucky for us both I'm a healer-type." He put his hand over her eyes, and she let him without a fuss. She was so tired.

"My name is Akhos. Leave everything to me."

Ack was a silly name. It sounded even sillier when she heard Big say it. She really should say so, but she was so tired. So, so tired...

She slept.

* * *

 

Going hunting hadn't done a damn to calm him down. The _pity_ in Jac's voice and the words _she will die_ chased around his skull on an endless loop. The guy leading the scavenger team either had been briefed, or didn't give a rat's ass, because he didn't call Malos out on his lack of sticking with the group. Just gathered up the carcasses Malos chopped down; shouted out instructions for how his team should prepare each one for consumption.

Malos probably should have paid attention to that. And to the foraging lesson on what items were and weren't edible. Instead he -- fine. He _sulked_.

They were two Titan pedes out from camp when the itch hit with a vengeance. _Something_ was happening. Malos had to get to his brat _right fucking now._

The itch didn't pull him towards where he'd left the brat napping. Instead it pulled him to a tent that had been set up for the commander's paperwork -- why did he have a folding desk? Waste of space much! -- and to the glittering of shattered glass along the ground. Someone or something had gone through the area and knocked chunks of minerals or something off a shelf and sent a tower of boxes scattering everywhere.

But all that paled before the fact there was a dead man holding his brat.

" _Akhos_ ," Malos hissed, stunned into stopping.

"Oh?" Akhos needlessly adjusted his glasses. "Have we met before?"

"Not in this lifetime," Malos managed. Ripping his eyes from the ghost -- which needed one hell of a lot of thinking on, latter -- Malos looked at the brat in Akhos's arms. The faintly glowing brat.

Akhos arched a gratingly expressive eyebrow. "She's your Driver, too?"

"Yeah." Malos swallowed a weird feeling. It tasted like a mix of fear and oddly warm.

"You're a rather pathetic Blade, then." Akhos waved his free hand in dismissal. "She's deathly ill, and you're off -- what? Picking daisies?"

"Scavenging for supplies you asshat!" Malos roared, familiar furry bubbling in his gut. "Look around! We're in the middle of Architect cursed nowhere!"

"Not _that_ far out from civilization if we're in the middle of a military unit." Akhos drifted his fingers cautiously over the brat's face and stomach. "What have you been _feeding_ her? Rocks? Her digestive track is a mess! And let's not even get into the fever and general chaos that's the rest of her bodily functions. Don't you know anything?"

"Fighting Blade!"

"That is a poor excuse."

It took everything Malos had not to punch Akhos dead again.

"Can't argue with you there, Blade."

The tense stand-off fractured as Jac walked into firing range. His Blade's weapon was leaning casual-like on his shoulder; his Blade had ether gathered but wasn't channeling it. Inclining in a shallow bow, Jac kept his eyes locked on Akhos. Which was smart considering… Damn it. Jin had wanted him to get to know the members of Torna better; Malos hadn’t bothered much since they were all means to an end. Besides, Akhos had struck Malos has a stuck-up son of a.

Recognizing he had no idea how this was going to play out dropped a hot led lump of dread in Malos’s pit of a stomach.

“My name is Jac, Sir Blade.” Jac gestured to his Blade. “My partner, Yachink. Might we have the honor of your name?”

Akhos slid forward an oily step. “The legendary Akhos, at the service of my Driver.” The tiny bow Akhos sketched made Malos wanna punch the glasses right off Akhos’s face.

“Still a smug stuck up son of a ferris, Akhos. You never change,” Malos snarled. And maybe that was the wrong thing to say; newborn Blades remembered nothing of their past awakenings. Given the level of _smug_ radiating from Akhos, though, Malos had to say _something_. Either that or punch him, and punching wasn’t an option.

“My Driver needs at least _one_ dependable Blade,” Akhos – sniffed? Seriously? Was turning your nose up like that even a _thing_?

Malos rolled his eyes. _Damn thespians_. “I’m reliable enough to make sure Millie isn’t _eaten_.”

Akhos looked at Jac. Jac looked both amused and bemused. “If its fluffy, she tries to hug it. Volff and bundits included.”

“Oh dear,” Ahkos sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to admit the lunk does have a use after all.”

“Gee. Thanks,” Malos growled, tone as dry as those damn crackers.

Jac stepped in again before things could go further off the rails: “None of our company had pediatrics training. I’ve basic field medical training and raised three siblings. Done what we could, but as you can tell, what we _can_ do isn’t enough. Shall we discuss options for improving Millie’s condition?”

“But of course!” Akhos sketched another little bow, free arm swooping out ahead of him. “Lead on, Driver Jac, Blade Yachink.”

Malos rolled his eyes, but followed Jac, his Blade, and Akhos. Titan’s _foot_ , did Malos want to kill something.

* * *

 

Standing close enough to hear a shout, but far enough away not to overhear any more, Malos amended his earlier thoughts. He didn’t need to kill something. He needed to _not_ loose his dinner. Vomit in front of an Akhos who didn’t have so much as a hair out of place as he discussed _bodily functions_ in grotesque depth, and Malos knew he’d never hear the end of it. Hell, even if Malos died, Akhos would make sure Malos would be a punchline for jokes for all eternity.

_Not. Going. To happen._

Distraction. Malos needed a distraction. Something around here had to be distracting enough for –

The stars were out.

Looking up at them, Malos felt himself start to relax. The stars hadn’t changed much in five hundred years, locked as they were in their eternal dance. Little insignificant dots of light who were too far away to give a damn about one measly little mud-ball. Bright enough to light the heavens and the worms that crawled beneath them yet distant all the same. The were… pretty. Wrong time of year to see the Northern Cross. There was space junk up there, too. Leftovers from when the World Tree had given up the ghost.

Closing his eyes, Malos breathed in. The camp stink was almost soothing.

~ _Siren Model L stand-by._ ~

What the _hell_?!

“Logos?”

Shaking loose of his shock, Malos turned towards whomever had called him. A deep breath to show he wasn’t freaking out. “Jac,” Malos acknowledged. Without his voice betraying him, too. Good.

Jac was smarter than the average Ardianian soldier; Malos could _see_ the kid wanting to ask. He held back, though. Kept it to a simple, “Akhos and I finished up Millie’s exam. She’s going to need a few things to better supplement her diet.” Jac held out a rumpled piece of paper. “Keep an eye out for these, yah?”

Malos took the list. Crowbell fruits, dusk bamboo, welcome cactus… Nothing too out of the ordinary. Some of this Malos had seen during this afternoon’s foraging “You talk to the cook?”

“Yeah. Already got more applesauce being made. The rest of the troops like it, too. Its a good change from ration crackers,” Jac chuckled. They stood in companionable silence for a handful of breaths. “I do admit the Blade is a… bit self-centered?” Malos snorted at the understatement. Undeterred, Jac continued, “But I think his heart’s in the right place. Akhos would make a good big brother – once you got him to tone down the act a wee bit.”

“Act?” Malos echoed. Fast on that thought’s heels were, _What act? Akhos always was like that!_ At least Malos kept those thoughts to himself this time.

“He’s scared. Ain’t we all,” Jac admitted. “No two people have the same way of coping with their fears. Some turtle up; bundle it all inside. Others try to ignore it into going away. Others, like Akhos… They bluff. Act like they ain’t scared, and they just might trick the fear inside ‘em.”

Malos stared. Jac shrugged, his two gold pieces spent, and leaned against a supporting pole.

“Akhos,” Malos repeated. “Scared.”

“Millie’s odds made a Titan sized jump from none to poor.” Jac held up a hand to forestall Malos jumping down his throat. “I dunno what kind of mayhem she saw before you ran into us, but I’d hazard to say it wasn’t good. Since he’s a healing Blade, Akhos could confirm a lot of what I could only guess at. She needs _weeks_ of proper diet, exercise, and medicine to get her back to average. She also needs _specialized help_. She should be well past toddling at this age; ‘ell, you should be driving yourself to exhaustion keeping up with her running around. Plus, she should be _talkin_ ’ all our ears off, not screamin’ ‘em off. Some of the wounds I found, back when you ran into us, I’m thinking weren’t caused by rough living. Architect _damn them!_ ”

Caught flat-footed by Jac slamming his fist into the support post, Malos jumped.

“She’s a babe. Barely a babe at that. How could… How could anyone hurt a child like that?”

Memories of sinking a continent beneath the Cloud Sea crashed over Malos. With a will, he locked the once pleasing screams back down, out of his sight; out of his ears. Doing so drug up memories of when Jin had found Mikhail. Had… Had Mikhail really been as small as the brat? The boy half out of his mind with fever from what the Praetor had done... In Malos’s memory he _looked_ as small as the brat. It had taken decades to get Mikhail to say anything at all.

“They could do it… if they were damn psychopaths,” Malos heard himself saying. Then shook himself, hard. “You’re saying you think the bastards who torched her town screwed with her?”

“Your village was raided?” Jac demanded.

Malos smacked himself in the head. Of _course_ he hadn’t mentioned; he’d been trying to stay as vague on the details as possible. But with this –

“No, it doesn’t,” Jac waved Malos off. “In the end, it doesn’t matter. Your past is your own; I’m in no position to pry. But… But I think whatever happened, it left wounds. Here,” Jac tapped his chest, over his heart. “No medicine in the world can heal those kinda wounds, save love ‘nd time. Even then the scars ‘ll mark past Death’s calling.”

“We can at least content ourselves with the fact she won’t be dying any time soon.”

Malos whirled, reaching for his weapon even though he knew damn well he’d left it back at the cannon. “Don’t _do_ that!” he snapped.

For once, Akhos didn’t look smug. “Sorry. I’ll try to remember you run hot.” And it was surreal to hear the sincerity in Akhos’s voice as he said it. “Yachink showed me to her bunk in the cannon Titan. She’s resting comfortably, with one of the cannon officers keeping an ear out for her. Jac, could you give us a few minutes?”

“So long as you two don’t turn a talk into a brawl,” Jac agreed.

“We won’t,” Akhos promised for them both. Malos snorted. Akhos gave Malos a look as he adjusted his glasses; deliberately tipped his head towards the Titan. An area where everyone could see them but not overhear them without being obvious.

Malos hesitated. Growled, “ _Fine_ ,” and stormed off in the direction Akhos had indicated.

They were halfway to the cannon when there was a prickle of static electricity that made Malos pause. Turning back to look at Akhos, Malos found the electric element healer had his right hand to his right ear. It was the same kind of listening pose he used when conversing with Jin. And to go with that pose came the feeling of _attention_. It wasn’t one thing in particular; a shift of footing, an adjustment of posture. Whatever it was, when Akhos adjusted his glasses, Malos knew. This was not some scatterbrained stuck-up asshat. This was the strategist who had made many of Torna’s crazier plans _work_.

“We’re clear,” Akhos said as if that meant something. “Malos. What the hell is going on?”

...oh _shit_. Malos took a half step towards Akhos. “What do you remember?”

“Patroka and I rendezvousing with Jin. Amalthos got the drop on us using some kind of Core Crystal powered armor. He...” Akhos swallowed. “He ripped out Patroka’s Core Crystal. Then he,” Akhos touched his Core Crystal, “he ripped out mine. Things got – fuzzy – after that. One of the last things I remember clearly is Jin freezing Amalthos to death before...” Akhos shook his head. “Then the curtain fell.

“And until twenty minutes ago, I didn’t remember _anything_. Until Jac said your name was Logos and then,” Akhos mimicked an explosion with his right hand. Took a deep breath. “I repeat. What. The _hell_. Is going on. You know what I am! I can’t… How can _I_ have a Driver? I --”

Malos had done it before he’d realized what _it_ was: Throwing his arm around the smaller Blade’s shoulders and pulling him into a hug. Akhos wasn’t the same build as Jin at all; just like Jin, though, he went still, stunned. His own feelings of relief were enough to stun Malos into holding on for longer than he should have.

“I have no idea what in Father’s name is going on,” Malos admitted softly. Then let go and took two deliberate steps back.

Akhos pushed his glasses back into place. “Malos?”

Malos pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t… I don’t _know_ , Akhos. I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know what is _wrong_ with me.”

“Wrong with you?” Akhos echoed.

“I just _hugged you_ a second ago,” Malos hissed. If that hadn’t been clue enough –!

“Well. This is entirely off script,” Akhos deadpanned. “The girl… is your Driver. Isn’t she?”

Not trusting himself to talk, Malos nodded a sharp affirmative.

“Utterly off script, indeed. I wonder...”

Akhos paused, going attentive as though hearing something. The damn itch around Malos’s Core Crystal came back with a vengeance. Listening for it now, Malos could hear the high pitched scream of the brat throwing a tantrum.

“Not the most melodic of cues,” Akhos joked. He shrugged, as nonchalant as if the past five minutes had not happened.

Malos shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Call me Logos until we get out of this,” Malos commanded as he stomped past Akhos.

“I enjoy breathing,” Akhos acquiesced, deadpan, falling into step behind him.


	3. House Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …I didn’t realize until watching the cutscenes again, but Indol actually freaking sank. So… yeah. _That_ bit knocked this fic out of canon compliance.

Mor Ardain was a country a breath from crisis.

At first blush, there were no signs of the coming chaos. The military held as firm a sway as always. The Senate stood firm, its body's many voices and opinions signing different harmonics to the same hymn of Mor Adrain's brightening future. The Emperor was strong and beloved by his people. Their Titan was no longer at risk of sinking beneath the Cloud Sea.

But. A year on and their harvests were still poor. Their grip upon the province of Gormot was turning tenuous at best. Their rival power, Uraya, was making overt intelligence gathering operations into Ardainian territory. If it weren't for the damn Fever striking all lands indiscriminately, war would have been sounded three months or less after the Miracle of the World Tree. Indol's newest Praetor was still trying to spin that one in the Praetoriate's favor.

_And loosing, thank the Architect. Amalthus's madness was his own undoing. He shall not be lamented._

All in all, Special Inquisitor Mòrag Ladair had quite enough on her plate, thank you very much.

"Enjoying the evening air?"

Turning so as to catch sight of her Blade from the corner of her eye, Mòrag acknowledged, "I'd hoped it's cleanliness might put my mind to ease."

Brighid hummed. "There's quite a lot which might clutter anyone's head." The fire Blade looked up into the heavens, where the first dots of starlight were beginning to push past the twilight. "The one year anniversary this past week brought up... so many memories. I'm grateful you were able to clear the name of Torna."

"It seemed the least which could be done," Mòrag temporized.

Brighid said nothing aloud that her knowing gaze did not say for her. The Blade allowed her Driver to absorb the silence of the night for a handful of minutes longer.

"You've read the report from Cannon Unit Five Six Four, I take it?"

Mòrag adjusted her hat; the sole nervous twitch she had ever allowed herself. "I have. It all appears straight forward. The unit rendered aid and comfort to an Ardanian citizen in distress."

"Yes." Brighid allowed another moment for Mòrag to parry if she so wished. When Mòrag stayed silent, Brighid hauled the beast into the light: "A Mor Ardain citizen who's an infant. Who is an unregistered Driver whose Blade matches a very familiar description. A Blade whom we both saw disintegrate, body, Core Crystal, and all."

"Yes. So we did."

Brighid arched a brow, adding aloud, "Lady Mòrag?"

"An additional report was forwarded six hours ago. The girl awoke another Blade, from what the squad presumed was an unusual geologic sample. After all, Core Crystals are pure blue in color. Not tainted blood red."

For a fire Blade, feeling frozen was a unique experience.

"The Blade whom awoke was a healer type, electric element. He answers to the name Akhos."

The Jewel of Mor Ardain rather felt like she needed to sit down.

"Akhos?" Brighid hissed. If the description of the first Blade had seemed impossible, this one was all the more improbable. "But the Praetor --"

"Yes. Indeed he did," Mòrag hummed, giving an air of nonchalance. "I briefed His Majesty on this brewing situation. He's agreed its merits command direct investigation by myself. He also authorized the use of his fastest vessel to collect one Driver and Blade from Fonsett Village. Granted, if another Driver and pair of Blades wish to accompany the first, they will not be dissuaded. They should be here by afternoon. Five Six Four estimated their arrival by mid morning at the latest."

"We shall meet them at base, I take it," Brighid confirmed.

"We shall. With Aegaeon and Dr. Tanntallis accompanying."

"The royal physician to attend the might-be Driver of a dead Aegis. Seems fitting, in a way."

"His Majesty concurred."

Brighid held her peace a minute longer. "And if it is Malos?"

"Then we proceed with utmost caution." Mòrag adjusted her hat. And that was that.

* * *

 

The capital of Mor Ardain, Alba Cavanich, was as much of a cesspool as Malos remembered it being. And he wasn't just saying that because of how he'd found Jin wallowing in its filth, discarded like some kinda trash.

"Home sweet home," the captain of the cannon squad sighed. Malos gave the pointy hat an incredulous look. "Oh, you country lot can mock it all you like. For a city boy like me, there's no place better."

"... _right_ ," Malos managed with a straight face.

"Ah, shove off, Logos. Better yet go get yer lass. Needs must and all that, but the Field Marshall will rip me strips if he finds out where we stashed 'er crib."

That, at least, Malos could agree to.

Without bothering to look, Malos jumped down from the top of the cannon Titan. Two jumps and a hop had his feet back on solid ground close enough to the Titan's rear there wasn't a need to jog to keep up. An easy walk and Malos was knocking on the hatch.

The hatch opened. Malos did a double take, almost tripping over his own two feet, as a squirming bundle was thrust into his arms.

"Take her. _Please_ ," Akhos begged.

One flap of blanket flickered off and the squirming bundle resolved itself into Millie, red faced with unspent fury. The brat gave a pretty good glare at Akhos. Sucking in a breath, she readied herself for a scream.

"Hey." Malos bounced the brat around so she had to face him. The brat's eyes lit up and that itch around Malos's Core Crystal started to tingle. Millie thrust her hand out towards Akhos in an obvious command. "I am not going to punch him. He hasn't done anything worth the hassle. Yet."

From the angry frown, the brat disagreed.

"All I did was get her breakfast," Akhos defended himself.

Malos arched an eyebrow. The brat squeaked denial.

Akhos pushed up his glasses. "Diapers aren't optional, Millie."

Millie squirmed and kicked and fussed to show her opinion.

"Akhos has a point, brat. Pants are mandatory in polite society."

With a sheet wrapped bundle of what looked like their pittance of personal items tossed over his shoulder, Akhos hopped from the cannon to walk next to them. After another fiddle with his glasses, Akhos asked, "Polite society? Where?"

One of the cannon men scoffed as the hatch shut close behind Akhos.

"Tell me you have a plan for how we get out of here," Malos demanded at a whisper.

"Several," Akhos confirmed in an equally hushed tone. "You'll hate all of them."

" _Wonderful_ ," Malos growled. He bounced the brat to adjust his grip and give her a better view, such as it was. Hearing her giggle was weirdly soothing; given he _needed_ his wits about him, Malos would take it for a boon and freak later.

Akhos took his growl as permission to continue. "Option one is we play dumb. Just two poor confused Blades resonated to a baby Driver. Oddities aside, we should be able to slip free into the city's underground with relative ease. Downside is that makes getting Millie a proper doctor problematic."

There was an itchy feeling that had nothing to do with that itchiness around his Core Crystal. It _felt_ like he was being watched. Pressing on, Malos demanded, "Option two?"

"Option two is option one, sans vanishing act." From the way he was eyeing things, Akhos was feeling whatever itch was getting to Malos.

And he was right. Malos didn't like any of those plans. "Third option?"

"You gentlemen come with me."

Malos saw Akhos go pale; felt himself likewise blanch. Both Blades turned to look behind them.

"Oh dear," Akhos managed.

 _No shit,_ Malos cursed quietly.

Flamebringer Mòrag Ladair and the Jewel of Mor Ardain. Armed. Lethal. And visibly ready to attack at the first hint of provocation.

"Let us proceed forward without incident -- Logos, was it?" the Special Inquisitor inquired.

 _She knows_.

Malos tried to stamp down panic. No shit she knew. The Flamebringer had been in his Father-damned _face_ during their final confrontation. She'd no sooner confuse Malos with another Blade than she would her own Blade's swords for another set of whips.

Akhos took a half step forward, making a sweeping motion with his arms as he did so. "Surely there's no need; not with an infant --"

"I am confident enough in my skills to assure you, Akhos, the child 'll feel naught more than a sunburn," the Flamebringer cut him off. "Yourself and your companion, however," and she let the threat hang.

"But really," Akhos tried.

"Your reputation proceeds you," Brighid at last spoke. "Your previous Driver was a madman. But. It was _your_ skills which made his impossible quest a reality. Your memories are gone, but we have no illusions regarding the sharpness of your instincts. Please. For the sake of your current Driver, come without resistance."

 _There's something freaking surreal about this_ summed up Malos's entire month thus far. Deliberately, he looked at Akhos. The asshat could play the angles faster than anyone Malos knew.

Akhos looked at Malos. Looked at the Flamebringer and her Blade. Looked at the Ardanian soldiers who had made sure they'd survived -- at Jac, who looked torn between duty and to protect. Returned his gaze to Malos, and the scared quiet brat. And mouthed, _Option three._

Fuck.

"Fine," Malos snarled. "But if you think I'm letting go of my brat, you've got a fight coming."

"Fair enough," Brighid demurred. The Special Inquisitor sheathed her whip swords.

"You will turn around and go straight ahead towards the transport to my right," the Flamebringer ordered in clipped, no-nonsense, military tones. "Deviate from my instructions at your own peril."

Akhos looking to Malos for directions was just... no. Bouncing the brat again -- which was because she kept clinging and gravity made her slippery. _Not_ because Malos was scared -- Malos turned back around and followed orders. Every step he could feel the leashed heat which was the Jewel of Mor Adrain's power licking none too subtly at his heels. The ether on the air wasn't igniting into actual flame -- but it was too close for comfort.

The transport was medium sized. Still, stepping inside – and then taking a seat, as ordered by the Special Inquisitor – turned the world claustrophobic. Akhos sat near enough to brush Malos’s shoulder. Between him and the brat in his arms, and the confined space, Malos’s power was metaphorically pinned.

“Good morning. Would you like some water?”

The voice was cool; suave, almost. The Blade it belonged to looked like the Jewel’s opposite number. Water ether coiled around his hands, condensing into about as pure a flow of water as could be gotten without filtration systems. Smooth, controlled flicks of ether control mimicked by his fingers split the water stream into two glasses and a bottle. The Blade put a rubber top onto the bottle before gesturing to glasses and bottle as though he’d preformed some magic trick.

Akhos took one glass with a gentile, “Thank you.” Took a deliberate sip. Waited a moment. And then gave Malos an affirming tip of head.

Malos took the bottle first. His lacking in any clue how to use the thing did not stop Millie from taking matters into her own hands. The brat grabbed the bottle right out of his hand with a gleeful squeal. Malos indulged himself in a moment to check he still had all his fingers, then reached for the remaining glass.

“My,” Brighid hummed, sitting on their opposite side with one leg crossed. “For newborn Blades, you are both extraordinarily paranoid.”

 _Do_ not _break the glass,_ Malos firmly reminded himself. Which was why he put the glass down first. Then, he snapped, “Let’s cut the crap. You know who I am.”

“Very well, Aegis Malos,” the Special Inquisitor inclined her head, acknowledging Malos’s tackles request. “Might I introduce Aegaeon, Mor Ardian’s Shield of Storms.” She waited a beat for Aegaeon to nod in formal greeting, and for Akhos to reply in the same court formal protocol. The Inquisitor had sense enough not to wait for Malos to echo his companion. “You are of course familiar with Brighid.” Another senseless formality beat past. “I am Special Inquisitor Mòrag Ladair.”

“Gee. We’d’ve never guessed,” Malos snarked.

Akhos pushed his glasses up (needlessly. Again). “Well. Since we’re all going completely off script, no point in keeping it a secret. I remember _everything_. Architect only knows why.” While the Ardanian contingent were still absorbing that, Akhos continued, “And I do mean that literally. The Architect is the only person – entity? – I can think of with the capabilities to pull quite this big a bundit out of his hat.”

The brat perked at the word bundit.

“No,” Malos answered before the brat’s eyes could get any bigger, “we are not going to get you a pet bundit. Not going to get you a pet anything. Got it?”

“You got her a pet you. Does that count as something?” Akhos asked with a benign expression made idiotic by the smirk crinkling his eyes. Malos growled. Akhos rolled his eyes. “Please. She has you wrapped around her little finger.”

The brat giggled, making grabby hands towards Akhos.

“Yes, you’ve admittedly got me in the same position, little Driver mine.” Akhos reached over to tickle the grabbing hands. The brat giggled and squealed. Over the rim of his glasses, he shot Malos a look. “I’m at least man enough to admit it.”

“I am going to kill you. Slowly,” Malos warned.

“As entertaining a distraction as this is,” the Special Inquisitor cut in, “it does not disguise the Aegis in the vehicle.”

“So to speak,” Brighid tacked on. Aegaeon turned the start of a chuckle into a polite cough.

The Special Inquisitor ignored her Blade's quip to strike to the heart of the issue: "What is your intention, Malos? Will you resume your crusade to obliterate the world?"

Wasn't that the million gold question. Even Akhos, still ticking the brat, was waiting for an answer.

"I..." Malos took a breath, running his hand through his hair. "Crap. I don't even know how I'm _alive_."

"I see. Your focus is too immediate to see action past the current moment," the Flamebringer hummed. Malos could admit being freaked by how perceptive the Ardanian was.

 _Clue, idiot. She didn't get the job of Special Inquisitor because she was stupid_ , Malos berated himself.

"To ask you bury the hatchet may be a request made too soon," the Flamebringer continued, "so instead I would ask for a ceasefire. I am given to understand your Driver is in need of intense medical care. Something to do with having been found within the perimeter of an annihilated Ardanian village."

"I can't speak to the specifics, but she _does_ need looking at by a professional," Akhos concurred. And looked at Malos.

 _Why are you looking at me like that?_ Malos wanted to scream. _I don't make decisions! Jin does! I just follow --_

Just followed his rat ass bastard of a first Driver's limitless hatred. Just followed Jin in a mission to do the only thing Malos knew how to do. Just followed _orders_ , like a good little tool.

Having been dead for a while was making Malos far too introspective.

"Fine." The word scrapped across Malos's throat like sand in a banshee. Four letters leaving a four Titan pede pit in his gut.

"The physician who handles the Imperial Family is awaiting our arrival," Brighid informed them.

"While you may be adverse to releasing," the Flamebringer hesitated for a moment, "your brat -- there are some things a man must not be present for. A lady's examination, for example."

Given how Akhos and Jac talking medical shop had came close to costing Malos his dinner, yeah. He could agree to that. Within limits.

Malos jammed his free thumb at Akhos. "Akhos stays with her."

"Given healer Blades are unofficially recognized as doctors by their nature, such a request will be honored," the Flamebringer confirmed.

"Fine," Malos said for lack of anything else to say. Silence broken by the brat suckling on the bottle filled the transport.

Father help him, this was going to be a _slog_.

* * *

 

However bad Malos thought it would be, it turned out to be worse.

The first problem was their destination: The Father-cursed _palace._ The sight of it put Malos's hackles up. He could practically _feel_ the daggers being plunged into his back; the machinations of so-called _powers_ sizing him up for their own purposes. That there were no fewer than sixty heavily armed soldiers on their route does not improve his outlook on the situation. By the time they actually got _to_ the infirmary or whatever, Akhos had fiddled with his glasses so many times there were little dimples starting to form on his nose.

...not that Malos was looking, exactly. Akhos messing with his glasses was _distracting_. Which was probably why he did it in the first place -- never mind.

The second hurdle should have been simple: The brat _did_ _not_ want to let go of Malos. The solution should had been for Malos to rip her off himself and toss her at Akhos. Straightforward and simple. It was not like he'd use enough force to hurt her or anything. But no sooner did Malos have her off him and at arm's distance did the brat start _screaming_. A full blown tantrum the likes of which Malos had never seen before, complete with wriggling like a caught fish, kicking at everything, and punching Malos's arms. If it weren't for the fact Malos were a Blade, the brat would have been dropped in the first minute.

(It was less violent than his own outbursts. To be fair to the brat, it was hard to match Malos for shear destructive force.)

"She has a healthy set of lungs to her," opined Brighid.

Given how the brat was acting, Malos did not have a hand free to comment. The brat's screaming was making them the center of attention, and not in a good way. On the one hand, good to know where their enemies were focusing. On the other, Malos was used to being a shadow outside the battlefield. This many eyes on him without a slaughter ongoing made Malos feel... exposed. _Twitchy_. And the damn itch back with a vengeance was _not helping._

"Hey," Malos snapped in the pause between screams. The brat gulped down air and screwed up her face. "Hey!" Malos repeated, louder, forceful. The brat hiccuped. "You need to go with Akhos."

A sharp nod negative.

"This is non-negotiable, brat."

Eyes narrowing, the brat gave a warning half-sob.

"I am _not_ going in there. Akhos is. _Go._ "

And for a moment -- a brief flash in the pan spark of a moment -- Malos was tempted to burst out laughing. The brat was _mimicking him_ , Father help them all. Arms crossed, chin jutting out, eyes flashing daggers -- if it weren't for the fact she wasn't tall enough to reach Malos's hips, and that she was currently hanging in Malos's arms, she _might_ have been intimidating.

"Well. That's as clear an answer as any," Akhos quipped.

"Stubborn as her Blade," the Flamebringer chuckled.

Any other time, Malos might consider that an insult. With the brat's tantrum consuming all his attention, Malos ignored it.

Knuckles wrapped sharply on a metal frame.

Pulling the brat against him on instinct, Malos turned towards the sudden noise. The brat, a small portion of his brain noted, had gone dead quiet, save for hiccuping out a breath of her unspent tantrum. Akhos had moved without prompting to cover Malos's brat occupied side.

_That. Is not a threat._

Or if he was, he was a well camouflaged threat. Old, was the first impression. Short cropped hair gone white with age and a matching set of wrinkles; dark blue eyes sharp as his outfit's seams. He had a gnarled cane in front of him, the better to defy the hunch in his back.

"Dr. Tanntallis." The Flamebringer inclined her cap. "May I introduce Blade Akhos, Aegis Malos, and their Driver."

Those old eyes weighed him; Malos could _feel_ judgment being past. The eyes moved on to Akhos. Then, last, they fell upon the brat.

The cane pointed at Akhos. A rich, deep voice demanded, "Him? Stay?"

The brat hiccuped and shook her head no.

The cane turned on Malos. "Him?"

Another head shake no.

"All or none of you." At the brat's nod affirmative, the cane slammed back into the floor. "So be it."

"There are questions which must be put," the Special Inquisitor began.

"Questions can wait."

The Special Inquisitor took a half step forward. The old man arched his brow. And the Special Inquisitor... _stepped back._ Then and there, Malos knew this was not someone he should screw with.

The old man turned around and walked back the way he had come. Akhos pushed up his glasses as he looked at Malos. Malos figured he looked as dumbfounded as he felt.

"We have not all day," came the old man's deep voice. Hell of it was his voice did not sound like a shout; just _present_ , like he was standing right next to them.

Akhos and Malos got moving.

* * *

 

It was an even contest on whom was most disconcerted by the situation. And that it itself caused Akhos to worry.

Millie’s tantrum was understandable; expected, even. Malos had been the constant in her young life. Where he led, Millie followed, with all the devotion a child too young to understand the world could summon. Akhos was secondary; a friend and procurer of things which did not taste like reconstituted dehydrated armu droppings. Malos being upset was itself reason enough for Millie to be upset. Malos being terrified was sufficient reason for Millie to be _furious_.

 _Either Malos is a better actor than I thought he was, or he is legitimately clueless._ Which was a thought that made Akhos want to polish his glasses for lack of an acceptable target. _Every time I think human depravity can’t get any lower._ Akhos stifled a sigh by adjusting his glasses. Best he continue to play an egregious showboat as foil to Malos’s stupefying persona.

“A private suite?” Akhos wondered aloud, walking in behind Malos.

Not a half shabby one, either. There was a single exam table in the center of the room. At its base within grabbing range of the table’s foot was a single chair crafted of Gormotti hardwood. Quite a fine piece worth a king’s ransom in gold. Not as plush as it could have been. There was a line of cabinets against the furthest wall centered around a plain unordained mirror, presumably where this Dr. Tanntallis kept the tools of his trade. The other walls were stark; bare without adornment, save for the ornaments required by castle protocol.

The good old doctor sat in the chair. Then, with a no-nonsense air, pointed the base of his cane at Akhos. “You. The door.”

Sketching a bow, Akhos closed the door.

“You.” The cane pointed at Malos. “You.” Pointed back at Akhos. “There.” Pointed at the unadorned wall. “And you.” The cane swung dangerously close to Millie’s nose. The child wriggled said nose, eyes going cross looking at the cane’s tip. The cane swung back to the table and tapped solidly against its end. Dr. Tanntallis commanded, “Here.”

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Malos’s mood upgraded from _terrified_ to _aggrieved_.

“Now, if you please.”

At this rate there was going to be a smoking hole in the middle of Hardhaigh Palace’s medical wing.

“Sooner started, sooner ended,” Akhos sing-songed-sighed. The look Malos gave Akhos was one level shy of a blistering incineration. And was he…? Oh yes. Malos was grinding his teeth. Were the circumstances different Akhos would have been laughing at the sight.

Deliberately, Malos put Millie down in the indicated spot. When she made to move, the old man’s cane swung down, barring her way and forcing Millie to abort her plans to lunge for Malos. The growl which rose from Malos was akin to a guard hound’s warning. Either Dr. Tanntallis had lived for long enough he had lost the taste for remaining alive himself, or he had seen worse. (Which immediately begged the question what on Alrest could be _worse_ than Malos in a furry. Akhos was morbidly curious to know.) The old man kept his eyes locked on Millie and ignored Malos as though he did not exist. Visibly torn, Millie looked from the old man to Malos and back between the two. A faint keening whimper from her caused Malos to hesitate.

“Ask politely _first_ next time,” Malos ordered, still growling.

But he did back off to join Akhos in wall ornamentation duty. Millie still looked torn; Akhos tried to lighten the bleak mood by waving at her. He could feel the glare Malos launched at him, but opted for his safety to ignore it. ...and at least Millie no longer looked quite so frightened.

Dr. Tanntallis tapped his cane. Attention of his patient thus recaptured, the old man asked, “What is your name?”

“Its Millie,” Malos bit out.

Where Dr. Tanntallis got a marble to throw at Malos, Akhos had no idea. It was effective ordinance against a Blade: Hard enough to inflict a modicum of pain without causing lasting damage. _How_ he threw it was another thing Akhos wanted to know. The man’s hands had not moved from the top of his cane.

“I did not ask you.” Dr. Tanntallis’s voice was packed with censure. But his expression and voice gentled as he returned his attention to Millie. “Your companion is lacking in manners, I see. No matter. Would you tell me your name?”

Millie puckered her lips. Looked over at Malos rubbing his sore forehead and grumbling obscenities. Looked at Akhos, who took his cue to sigh in dramatic fashion and rub a phantom headache, heavy gaze directed at the floor rather than risk watching Malos further embarrass himself. She swallowed without any subtlety, accepting the situation as normal.

_...damn. This_ **is** _normal for our current lot._

A sound akin to a hum cut Akhos’s musing dead. Eyes crossed in concentration, Millie had her lips puckered in the starts of a consonant. Near cross-eyed in confusion she was visibly trying to speak. Akhos felt his stomach hit somewhere around his ankles; he could guess without looking Malos wore an equally broken expression. Try though she might, Millie… could not speak.

The infant slammed her fists into the table in a burst of frustration. Frustration twisting to anger she pointed at Malos.

Dr. Tanntallis’s voice and expression were unambiguously neutral. “Your Blades cannot speak for you. However, as it seems your voice is in need of a nap, we shall proceed. Do you know when your birthday is?”

Millie indicated negative.

“How many years do you have?”

Another indication negative.

The questions rolled on one after another. After the first five, Akhos noticed the pattern: Yes or no questions. Wording choices selected for clarity with a young audience. Larger words were sprinkled into the questioning; for the most part, Millie had a firm grasp of language comprehension. And then… Then, came the physical.

The one part Millie tolerated was Dr. Tanntallis asking her to stick her tongue out at him.

“Are you _done_?” Malos growled.

Dr. Tanntallis withdrew the needle from Millie’s vein; tapped the seventh finger-length half filled vile of blood to insure the reagents at the bottom mixed properly within the sample. With the same slow haste he had used throughout the examination, Dr. Tanntallis placed the vial with its mates on a slotted trey. He then held up three wrapped candies on sticks. Each candy was a different color, and Akhos had to wonder if the color choice was deliberate or coincidental. To the far left was electric type yellow; the far right, darkness element purple; the center a Driver's neutral gray made glittery with some type of reflective edible sparkles.

“As thanks for enduring my machinations, you may select one lollipop.”

Millie looked between all three candies. Squinted in a glare so like Malos’s Akhos had to bite his cheek to keep from chuckling. Clearly and concisely, Millie pointed to Malos and himself.

“You are correct to inquire. They have behaved themselves.” A deliberate pause. “For the most part.” That was dry enough wit to get a giggle out of the girl. “As I recall, one of the orderlies brought with them a cake for which well behaving guests may sample. Go forth with your Blades and find out if memory has yet failed me.”

That was a cue if Akhos ever heard one. “An excellent idea! Malos, you’re better at subjugation missions. Go on ahead with Millie.”

“While you, what, eat candy?” Malos demanded. But he was already moving to pick up Millie; already moving to get her _out_ of there.

“While I interrogate the good doctor about where he keeps the rest of his candies, of course. He’s bound to have more than three,” Akhos stage whispered.

Malos huffed, “Idiot,” but thank the Architect he left it at that.

The door closed on Malos and Millie’s exit. Akhos waited a beat before reaching out with his ability. A few healing Blades’ auras bled into his awareness; the Jewel of Mor Ardain and that water Blade fizzled sharp at loose attention. But none of that could block the blistering _presence_ that was Malos’s aura heading out of earshot.

Akhos gave the doctor his opening line: “That was… unexpected.”

“I am not surprised you were unaware of the true extent of the damage,” Dr. Tanntallis concurred. “It is clear you have endured imminent hazard to life and sanity based solely on the fact the Flamebringer herself delivered your companions to my domain. At some point I wish to hear the tale in full sans embellishments. You should likewise be given full honors for keeping the child as healthy as she is. Blood will out what treatments will be needed henceforth.”

“Given Millie can vocalize, I presume the reason for her muteness is not physical,” Akhos demanded.

“It may be a non-visible physical cause. Internal. Around the vocal cords and throat,” Dr. Tanntallis corrected, military precise. “Neurological. Psychosomatic. A mix. None at all. Too little information. Blood will out.” He took care insuring the vials were properly packed. Without a further word, he reached up to the tops of one set of shelves.

“What…?” Akhos began to ask.

Stopped as Dr. Tanntallis put a bag as large as Akhos’s head into Akhos’s hands. Opening it a crack showed it to be stuffed with a rainbow assortment of those candies on sticks.

“You are a shrewd interrogator. Be off with your spoils. You will be summoned once the tests are done.”

From that point hence, Akhos was another fixture on the wall so far as Dr. Tanntallis was concerned.

“Well alright then,” Akhos said for lack of cutting dialogue. And exited the stage right.

At least Malos was making it ludicrously easy for Akhos to find him. All he had to do was follow the growling.


	4. "Didja Miss Me?"

"I'm making a list," Malos declared the second the guest suite's doors locked behind them.

Suite was probably the wrong word. _Executive rooms_ came closer. Four hallways spiraled out from the central room; five, if the main entrance was counted. A kitchenette big enough for four Nopon to work simultaneously was squished into the far corner, crowned by a pantry sized refrigeration unit eerily similar to the one the Monoceros’s galley used to have. A bar with stools acted as a line between the kitchenette and the rest of the room.

And it was the _rest of the room_ that which made Malos uncomfortably aware of the oddity which had become his life. Afterlife. Whatever.

 _Who in their right goddamn mind puts me in a room full of velvet covered furniture?_ Malos quietly demanded.

Velvet was expensive; even Malos, who ignored shopping responsibilities like the plague they were, _knew_ how expensive velvet was. Yet here he was in an entire room filled with the stuff. Two lounging sofas. Two wing chairs. A chair that was somewhere between a wing chair and a sofa. And the windows! That much glass and Malos should _never_ mix. Didn't stop the Ardanians from selecting a room whose rear wall was half made of _windows_.

"A list?" Akhos inquired, poking his nose into one of the four side rooms. On a pleasantly startled note, he added, "Bathroom isn't half bad."

"Yeah, a list," Malos snapped. "Of all the crap that should be impossible."

"Topping that list is us being alive," Akhos concurred.

"Mmph," Malos agreed, unceremoniously flopping back first into the wing chair/sofa combo thing. The brat mumbled into the blanket some nurse had handed out, snuggling closer into Malos's arms, but gave no indication of waking up. Nap time sounded like a good idea -- and _damn it_ that was going on the list, too.

"I wonder if any of the others made it."

 _Patroka_ , was who Akhos meant. Akhos's "sister".

Malos should scoff at it. He really should. Instead all he found he could muster was, "Maybe. We're alive. No reason Jin and the others aren't."

"Mikhail, too?"

Malos heaved a sigh without any drama behind it.

Akhos sat to slouch with proper decorum into one of the wing chairs, elbow propped on the chair arms so as to rest his chin upon his fist. "I do confess surprise as to why we weren't chained down and _properly_ interrogated. An unexpected boon of having a Driver again?"

Malos snorted, "Hell if I know. Could be they have an actual brain and realized we're as clueless as they are."

"Mmm. Either's possible. The leadership of the current Emperor has made Mor Adrain's politics more difficult to predict. It's as if the boy king doesn't like his script." Akhos adjusted his glasses. "At least it was before -- you know."

"Why do you do that?" Malos blurted.

"Do what?" Akhos blinked.

"The glasses thing. You're a Blade. You don't need them."

"My last Driver's sister thought I looked cute in glasses. After everything that's happened, I opted to keep them."

Well. That wasn't a mood killer.

"Do you know why Millie threw a tantrum?" Akhos asked some indeterminable time later.

Given the current volume of available topics, Malos figured answering was better than wallowing. "Because she's two?"

"...I gave you too much credit," Akhos mumbled under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Malls demanded. It wouldn't take two seconds to put the brat down, lunge out of his seat, and get his fingers around Akhos's throat.

"She was upset because _you_ were upset," Akhos clarified.

"Because I--?" Malos started to protest.

And then shut up as the electric prickle that was Akhos being dead serious registered.

"A Driver is supported by a Blade is supported by a Driver. That's how it should be. That's how it _was_ , before humanity crossed the line. Our Driver -- and _yes_ , it horrifies me this conversation is _even happening_ \-- has no support except for _you_. You are her first Blade. _You're the one in charge, Malos._ "

For a long, long second, it felt like time had rewound to five hundred years ago, to the moment a third of Malos's Core Crystal had been shattered. The excruciating pain; having to fight his own body; to force himself to continue to exist.

"I can't," Malos heard himself whimper, voice horse and harsh. The world was going white at the edges; his heartbeat was too loud, drowning out all other sound.

A whisper of distress cut through the haze. That damn itch around his Core Crystal started up again.

 _Millie._ Malos recognized the source of the sound. _Millie. My brat. About to cry._

Malos stood and bounced her as gently as he dared. "Shhh, shh, shh, it's alright. I'm alright." The words were a lie and a truth.

_My brat needs me._

Oh Father. Malos couldn't tell which was heavier: Akhos's words, or the reality that someone needed him. Not the Aegis. Not a weapon. _Him._

"If this is a plan of the Architect..." Akhos paused to both adjust his glasses and to stand. "Well. If it _is_ , he at least had brains enough to make sure you had competent help."

That was an invitation to snark. Malos passed it by. Instead he said, "Thanks, Akhos."

Akhos looked like he'd been smacked with a fish. The look was replaced a heartbeat later with an air of nonchalance. "But of course. We're Torna, after all."

Torna. Jin's Torna.

A rapid pattern of knocks on the door cut their little heart-to-heart in the quick.

"Room service!"

Akhos looked at Malos. Malos returned the look, feeling simultaneously oddly centered and full of dread.

"No," Malos attempted to deny.

The too cheerful for his own damn good salvager Aegis Driver _bastard_ swung open the door.

"Malos! Akhos! You blighters really are back!" Rex crowed with unsinkable cheer. "Didja miss me?"

Father really was trying to kill Malos. Again.

* * *

 

After thirty minutes of mass confusion compounded by Pyra admonishing Rex for his antics, Mythra admonishing Malos for being alive, and Millie joining the chaos with a scream at having been woken up from her nap, Special Inquisitor Mòrag stepped into the fray.

"That's quite enough, all of you."

Architect bless it, what Mòrag would have given for a camera. The last time she had seen a group of people frozen in such a tangle, Zeke, Pandoria, Tora, and Poppi had all been involved. Though last time had been all the more pleasant thanks to a lack of screaming toddler. There would be no help from Nia and Dromarch's quarter. The Gormotti was bent in half with the force of her laughter, and the Blade was studiously covering his chuckles by grooming his paws.

Mòrag took charge: "Pray, Pyra, if I could impose upon your skills for supper." The fire Aegis gave a startled affirmative, backing away from Rex (who had froze mid duck away from Akhos's grab) and heading for the indicated kitchen. "Mythra, see to Rex, would you? Akhos, sit. Malos, you as well. Nia lacks a good enough growth to reach your Driver if you stay standing."

"Oi now," Nia stepped forward, laughter contained in the face of potential bodily harm. Mòrag's words visibly clicked. "Whacha mean, _Malos's Driver_? That arse doesn't have one!"

Mòrag removed a spot of lint from her right glove. But it was Brighid who admonished: "The wailing child isn't one he's carrying out of a sudden development of good will, Nia."

"Bloody 'ell. I thought that was Akhos!" Nia advanced, Dromarch ever loyal following in her wake. "Sit!" the healer commanded, flapping her hands before her in emphasis. "Sit! Sit! Sit! It's no wonder she's screamin' like that with the way you're caryin' on!"

"What do you mean you thought that was me screaming?" Akhos demanded, pushing up his glasses, affronted.

"I believe my lady is referring to an incident involving a silver rhino beetle," Dromarch answered, cool as ever.

My. Akhos could turn an astonishing number of shades of red.

"I thought we agreed that incident _never_ happened!"Akhos hissed.

"As I recall, the arrangement was the incident was not to be spoken of by my lady. I was never party to the agreement," Dromarch -- purred, for lack of better description.

"Why you...!" Akhos fumed.

"This is something I need to hear," Mythra added her two gold into the maelstrom.

"Tell you later," Nia promised the light Aegis. Pointedly ignoring Akhos's hissed negative, Nia put her full attention on the brick faced lass in Malos's lap. "'ello there. I'd be screaming, too, it I had to put up with these comedians all day. What's're name?"

Nia's request garnered a hiccup, but no answer. Wrath for the moment spent, the little girl looked from Nia up to Malos.

"Brat, meet Nia," Malos introduced (term used loosely). "Don't let the ears fool you. She is not fluffy."

Eyes brightening the girl looked back to Nia. Playing along -- or truly annoyed; one never knew -- Nia's ears laid back and she bristled, "Oi! I take plenty good care of my fur!"

"Indeed. My lady is most fastidious with her care," Dromarch opined.

Millie's eyes went wide as little saucers as she took in Dromarch. The hand closest to Malos clung to his armor and tugged incessantly.

"Salutations," Dromarch inclined his head.

"Fluffy, isn't he?" Malos asked sardonically. The girl nodded in slow awe.

"Indeed I am quite fluffy," Dromarch concurred. "I am known as Dromarch. Might I have the pleasure of your name?"

The girl opened her mouth; frowned, and looked with -- a plea? -- to Malos.

"Her name's Millie," Malos answered in the girl's stead.

"Lady Millie. A most delightful pleasure to make your acquaintance." Dromarch yawned wide enough to hear his jaw crack. "Oh, my. Do forgive my waning manners. Our journey has left me more fatigued than I first realized. However... I do also seem to have a knot in my fluff. Would you be willing to lend me your aid, Lady Millie?"

Questioning eyes turned to Malos.

"It's fine, brat." Malos rested his hand softly along her back. "Akhos and I aren't leaving you."

There was a visible debate for a tense moment. And then, decided, the child reached out towards Dromarch.

"My thanks, Lady Millie," Dromarch spoke soothingly as he stepped so that Millie could crawl onto his back. "My lady, have you my curry comb to hand?"

"Since when do I not?" Nia demanded. Her usual bite was softened as she spoke, and she kept closer to Dromarch as he walked than was her usual pacing. "Bedroom?" She pointed towards one of the doors.

"It is always wise to check, my lady," Dromarch mused, while Mòrag nodded affirmative.

Malos watched the child with intent focus right up until the door closed after Dromarch's tail. The dark Aegis tensed, still; waiting. Then at some unseen, unheard signal, Malos released the breath he'd been holding.

"She really is your Driver, isn't she," Mythra inquired. Her voice was softer; an echo of Pyra's usual feather fluff rather than her normal razor edge.

"Yeah," Malos breathed, rubbing his hands over his face as if to scrub out the reality before his eyes. He threw himself back against the seat so that he was murdering his spine, giving off an air of an old campaigner who had seen too much of the front. It was an air reinforced by his next tired words: "Titan's foot if I know how in Alrest I'm _alive._ Father only knows how I have a damn Driver _again_."

"An underage, underfed, unaccompanied minor, at that," Akhos chimed in. "We're both lucky she's as stubborn a survivalist as you are. Her being adorable doesn't hurt, either."

Malos eloquently gave Akhos a one fingered salute.

"She's your Driver too, Akhos?" Rex asked.

"Shockingly enough, yes," Akhos confirmed.

Mythra abruptly snorted, hand going to her mouth to hold in the rest of a guffaw. A suspicious sounding chortle, "Changing diapers! Malos!" escaped her grip.

Akhos adjusted his glasses, drawing attention to his grin. "Oh the stories I could tell."

"Do and you’re a dead man," Malos growled.

"Sounds like you need a nap, too," Akhos counter-quipped.

Whatever Malos was about to say cut to silence as the door to the bedroom reopened. Ears flat against her scalp, Nia slipped out. Through the brief crack Dromarch's white bulk could be seen curled around a still blanket swaddled lump. The whole room held its breath until Nia closed the door. The Gormotti kept an eye on the door as though it were a monster and walked nearly on tip-toe.

Then she was charging for Malos with malicious aforethought.

"Tell me you _incinerated_ the bastard who did that to a child," Nia snarled.

"What makes you think I didn't do it myself?" Malos asked.

If Nia had rolled her eyes any harder, they would have rolled out of her head. "I wasn't born yesterday, Malos. Say this much for ya: You're _efficient._ You'll hate everyone's guts 'till the stars explode, but you're quick about killin' 'em. That damage in there isn't your handiwork. Or Akhos's, 'fore you try and get all angsty philosophious on us. You've both done horrific things, ya, no argument. But yer not _bad people_.

"Least, you don't hav' ta be. Not anymore," she finished softly, brushing at her ear in a nervous twitch.

The thick silence held for a beat or three.

Malos glared at the Aegis Driver in the room. He demanded at a growl, "What? Not going to add anything?"

"Wouldn't be a point to," Rex admitted with frank honesty. "You didn't want to listen to a word I was sayin' last time we met. Don't think that much has changed this time around, yah? Nia's got the right of it down any road."

"So you actually learned something," Malos snorted.

"Ladies and gentlemen, proof miracles do happen," Akhos quipped.

"Oi! Enough distractin'! Did you get the rat's arse or not?" Nia demanded.

At first it looked as though Malos would not answer. After wordless burst of frustration the story poured out: "I found her less than a Titan pede from a town that had been razed to the ground by people who were either sloppy or in a rush. She found me, I mean. My Core Crystal. By time I got my head pulled together enough to start looking for civilization, whoever they were, they were long gone. So, no. No disintegration."

"Good. Gives me a chance to take a swipe at 'em, once Mòrag gets a lead on 'em." Nia made a point of checking her claws.

"Finding the perpetrator or perpetrators of the recent string of barbarism is one of the military police's top priorities," Mòrag confirmed, tipping her hat to Nia.

Nia returned the hat tip with a nod. "Now that that's squared away." She pointed at Akhos. "Saw your ether all over 'er. Didn't do half bad, from what I can figure. Though you'd both better be changing her diapers more often or get her somethin' softer. Poor mite 's got a rash."

"That would explain why she has an aversion to pants," Akhos mused.

Nia concurred. "Try 'nd get her softer foods for a while. Stuff 's easy on the stomach 'nd guts. Armu milk ain't comparable to a mother's milk but it's better than nothin'. And you."

Malos looked cross eyed at the offending claw tip Nia had a foot from his nose.

"Keep transferin' 'er ether like you have been. 'Tween that and Akhos, it's been what's kept her alive."

"What," Malos pushed Nia's hand away, "are you talking about?"

"You mean to tell me you're doin' it without realizin' it?" Nia blinked.

"Realizing _what_?" Malos growled.

Nia opened her mouth to answer. Closed it without a sound. Looked at Akhos and pointed at Malos.

“It makes since when you take into account his last Driver.” Akhos adjusted his glasses.

Nia’s mouth opened and closed again. There was a faint feline whimper as she breathed, “Architect _blast_ it. You’re _right_.” Shaking herself as if shedding water, Nia asked, “You ever wonder how Rex could keep up the fight like he did?”

“A thick head,” Akhos deadpanned.

“Oi! Quiet from the peanut gallery!” Nia hesitated. “Though I grant ya, that’s a fair point. Rex does have a bloody thick head.”

“Hey!” Rex’s protest lost its potency mixed as it was with laughter.

Malos rolled his eyes. A joke a minute. Really. He guessed, “Mythra’s Core Crystal in his chest?”

Nia blinked. “Believe it or not, I plum forgot about that.” Snickers from the bit crowd. “Right. So you ever wonder how Mòrag kept up with the rest of us?”

“Ardainian stubbornness,” Malos offered, frustrated.

“Close. The Jewel o’ Mor Ardain played a big part in it.” Nia crossed her arms, in full lecture mode. “Basic Driver ‘n’ Blade one-oh-one. A Blade channels ether from their environment into their weapons, yeah? They also channel it into their Driver’s body. Its how a Blade can make an ether shield ‘round their Driver on quick notice.”

“That’s only if they’re in a fight,” Malos countered.

“’nd wotch you think she’s been doin’ this whole time? It ain’t been enjoyin’ a Pyra cooked picnic! Oh fer…!” Nia tossed her hands in the air, exasperated. “And you thought _Rex_ was thick headed. Wake _up_ , Malos! She’s been _fighting for her life_! Ain’t the kind of fight that gets all flashy with Arts and Artifices and what have ya. But its been a bare knuckle blisterin’ fight all the same.” Nia turned from Malos’s dumbfounded look. “Mythra. Pyra. One of you two, _please_ , explain basic biology to this idiot relation o’ yours. I need to step off before I stuff ‘im through one of those fancy windows.”

“I’m not doing it,” Mythra immediately declared.

“Sorry?” asked a confused Pyra from the kitchen.

Letting off an articulate, “ _Argh!_ ” like a kettle steam whistle, Nia stomped towards the kitchen.

The Special Inquisitor picked a spot of lint from her gloves. “It is,” she spook coolly, “quite simple. Hunger and pestilence are as great a foes as any giffox or lysaat. Do you concur, Aegis Malos?”

Frowning, Malos nodded affirmative.

“Then, considering that, it is not a far leap of logic to acknowledge young Millie has been under siege since the moment you awoke. And as you have already said, a Blade channels ether to their Driver in combat. Knowingly or not it appears that is what you have done. And that channel of ether,” Mòrag drove onward over Malos’s attempt to speak, “has been giving the child sufficient energy to survive the siege.”

“Or in other words, you saved her life. In more ways than one,” Brighid added solemnly.

Malos -- not blinked, exactly. The emotions flashed across his face too fast to be read in full. His expression of absolute shock lasted the longest, but it was the expression of stunned bewilderment which ended up being his default expression.

"Yeah, no," Mythra sighed.

"Mythra?" Rex wondered. He watched without a reason to stop her as Mythra moved. The light element Aegis walked deliberately over to her male counterpart, crouched down, and looked him in the eye. The darkness Aegis stared blankly ahead at nothing in particular.

The _smack_ of Mythra's palm hitting Malos's forehead could be heard from the kitchen.

"Alrest to Malos! Anybody in there?" Mythra demanded.

"Hey!" Malos slapped at her, jolting as far back as the furniture would allow.

"Ah, good, you are back." Mythra bounced up onto her toes and put her hands on her hips. "Lost you once to all the hate Amalthus dumped in you. Be a shame to loose you again when you've worked so hard to get here."

"I --" Malos started. Stopped. Growled and looked at the window so as to avoid looking at them all.

"Powers used to destroy instead being used to heal. Really freaky. I get that." Mythra bounced back down so her head was even with Malos's current height, her weight completely on the balls of her feet. "You've got eight hours to get over it before I find out if you're ticklish, got it?"

"Mythra!" Rex half laughed, half exclaimed. "You can't just threaten to tickle a grown man out ah nowhere like that!"

"Yeah... But Malos only _looks_ grown. He's totally as much a baby as his Driver," Mythra countered, not taking her eyes off the flummoxed male Aegis.

"I -- I am not!" Malos sputtered. The familiar feelings of frustration and furry were there, knotted in his gut, but they were... weird. The emotions were lighter, somehow, than Makos could ever remember them being.

"Totally are," Mythra joked. One hand reached out to poke Malos in the forehead. "You're totally a sulking five hundred and two year old brat."

Malos smacked her hand away and -- _Oh Father damnit I_ **am** _sulking like a two year old!_

"Mythra! Quit teasing Malos!" Pyra ordered, giggling. Then deliberately put down the trey of tea sandwiches. "I cannot believe I just said that."

"We've got a list going," Akhos said as he stood to help pass out sandwiches. That Mythra took two plates and handed one to Malos was noted but not commented on.

"Oh?" Pyra hummed.

"Yes. A list of all the," Akhos deliberately paused, "unusual oddities that have been happening thus far. Item one is being alive. Having a Driver is somewhere on there. This conversation is absolutely making it."

"It better," Mythra snorted. "We're all in the same room and, so far, the only shouting has come from someone with a better reason than being a constant grump."

"Mmm." Akhos bit into the sandwich. "Mmm! This spread is shockingly good."

"Why thank you," Pyra giggled, taking her own plate now that the others had theirs. "One of the Fonsett Village grocers taught me the recipe. I'd be happy to teach it to you.” A beat. “Provided you're not going to start trying to destroy the world again."

"Not for the immediate future, no," Akhos confirmed.

"How about not ever?" Nia mock suggested. "If there's one thing I learned last time watchin' you lot, it's destoryin' the world is just a hair less hard than takin' it over. Less paperwork in the long run but still just as much a slog."

"Not to mention all that expense!" Brighid echoed Nia's tone. "I can't imagine how much gold went into upkeep on your ship alone. However did you afford it?"

Akhos sipped his tea. "I wouldn't know. Jin handled the finances."

Malos affected to _ignore them all_. ...it was a tasty spread.

Mythra snorted, "Was there anything in Torna Jin _didn't_ handle?"

"Cooking."

So much for ignoring them all... Stifling a sigh, Malos met the group's assorted gazes. "Jin... didn't cook. Mikhail liked making things, so Jin let him... Jin let him have the areas that involved making stuff. Like the kitchen. And the machine shop."

"I never did find out what he was trying build down there," Akhos hummed. He looked damn _dainty_ sipping his tea.

"I am more concerned regarding what the living members of Torna will be building now." The Special Inquisitor set her teacup down in its saucer with an audible click. "His Majesty is willing to grant Torna compassionate asylum under the condition that you _never_ attempt world domination and/or destruction. Nor shall Mor Ardain ask for your aid in battle or politics. You shall have as much rights and responsibilities as any Ardanian citizen. As a gesture of good will, His Majesty will handle all financial burden of medical care for your Driver, along with room and board until such time as you are financially solvent. To such end, might I recommend a carrier in salvaging?"

"It is an honorable and noble profession," Brighid opined. "It even focuses on the past. Like you."

"That is a... very generous offer," Akhos noted, looking at Malos out the corner of his eye.

"It is preferable to rehashing the events of a year ago." Mòrag sipped her tea.

"It's been a year?" Akhos demanded. Malos was back to his default stunned expression.

"You just missed the Elysium Day celebrations," Brighid noted. The teacup did nothing to hide her smile.

"The fireworks were quite an accomplishment," Aegaeon hummed. His first words this entire conversation, and they were a dry quip. Definitively Mòrag's Blade.

Akhos and Malos exchanged a long look.

"Fine," Malos groused, "I'll bite. What the hell happened after I died?"

Mòrag, Nia, and Mythra's matching cat-cream smiles promised naught but pain.

* * *

 

Pyra was a damn good cook. If nothing else, Malos would give his fellow Aegis that. Or was it half an Aegis now? Did it matter? From what the gaggle of madmen were and weren't saying as they all sat around and split a communal style hotpot, Pyra still had her full Aegis’s strength. Ditto for Mythra. Plus they had at least one Artifice, which was more than Malos could claim. There'd been a less than subtle hint dropped around the salad course that the mass produced artificial Blades had been destroyed.

Politics washed over Malos's head. During the diatribe, Akhos had switched from adjusting his glasses to outright polishing them. So, something _insane_ had come up.

Clue. They were alive. _Insane_ was their new normal.

Pyra was standing up to get the next course -- exactly how much could she make in half an hour? -- when what felt like a full grown armu landed on Malos's chest.

"Malos?"

Mythra's voice was distant and sounded weird. Like she was actually concerned.

_Something's wrong._

"No duh ya lunkhead!" Nia hissed.

Crap, he'd said that out loud? Guh. Couldn't think. Couldn't _breathe._ Just like when --

The brat!

Malos moved -- surprisingly well, all things considered. The door was closer than he'd thought. Barely a blink between when he'd gotten to his feet and when he got his hand on the doorknob. The door remaining on its hinges was optional; Malos needed to get to his brat _now_.

A bass rumble said, "It appears to be only a nightmare."

 _Only_ a nightmare? His brat was kicking and punching the thin blanket off her like it was a mortal threat. Eyes scrunched up tight and breath coming in sharp gasps and a growing keen Malos knew too well. A sound of rage and fear puréed with loathing which his brat shouldn't know, shouldn't feel. There was nothing _only a nightmare_ about this!

Malos had his brat in his arms, her head tucked against his Core Crystal, one hand running through her hair. Damn Nia for being right -- Malos could _feel_ the ether flow through him into the brat, same way he had felt Sever flow ether into him during any one of countless battles. His brat _was_ in a fight for her life.

The battle drew to its end. Her breathing evened out and her pulse slowed down to normal. She yawned -- and damn Akhos for being right, too, the brat was _too_ adorable -- and snuggled into Malos's hold. Her frail fingers brushed Malos's Core Crystal.

The world _sang_ with clarity.

The brilliant second ended, and Malos was keenly aware he was being stared at.

"Akhos," Malos ordered -- quietly. Millie would be waking up soon; no need to wake her sooner.

Akhos was there, one hand slipping underneath Malos's to rest on Millie's head, the other resting on her chest. Electric ether gave the immediate air an ozone snap as Akhos closed his eyes and worked his Arts. The healer Blade wrinkled his nose like he'd tasted something foul.

"Dromarch's right. It _was_ only a nightmare," Akhos reported, keeping his voice as quiet as Malos's.

Only a nightmare. There weren't any quick fixes to nightmares, damn it.

"She has not had one of such magnitude before, I take it," the Flamebribger inquired in a tone utterly neutral.

And it was then Malos realized _everyone_ had followed him. The Drivers were taking their hands off their weapons. The Blades were dispersing unspent ether back into the air. Three Drivers, five Blades, Akhos, and himself were seven people too many in as small a room as this.

"Yeah," Malos answered. And headed back for the main room where there was sufficient space to breathe.

"Poor thing. I'll make her some warm milk to go with supper," Pyra offered. And was in the kitchen before anyone could say otherwise.

"Little kids don't always remember nightmares when they're awake," Rex added. "Some of the youngest orphans in Fonsett 're like that. Screaming in a nightmare one second, utterly clueless when they're awake. Just need a good hug to take the chill off, is all."

A good hug. From _Malos_. Titan's _foot_ was Rex an idiot.

A small, quiet voice in the back of Malos's head pointed out -- _A good hug_ was exactly what Malos was doing. That the voice sounded too much like Jin made Malos bristle.

_Jin should be alive. Patroka._ _Mikhail._ _Jin. Torna should be alive. Not me._

A muted bass roar sounded from the rough direction of Millie's midsection. Big eyes looked up at Malos in a request as clear as bells irregardless of words.

"Yeah, brat," Malos heard himself say even as he felt like he was choking, "we'll get you breakfast."

* * *

 

A happy Malos looked an awful lot like any other bloke in Alrest.

Rex nodded in agreement to a point Pyra was making regarding good cooking. The bulk of his focus, though, was on watching Malos feed the little bugger sitting all neat and proper in Malos's lap. Pyra had whipped together some kind of Dromarch approved spicy sweet concoction while Nia had been helping Millie with the necessities. Glitter spuds were part of it; Rex could identify that much. The rest of the simple mush was beyond his ability to identify. It tasted pretty good from the way Malos's Driver was inhaling it.

But thinking on it, Malos didn't really look _happy_. He looked kinda -- there. He had his world right 'round him, and that was that.

Ah course, that was all playing dodge the sqood. Malos had an Architect blessed _Driver_. An honest one! This time round, Malos had a bloody chance to _make_ somethin' of himself that wasn't weighed down by five hundred years’ worth ah hate.

Speaking of dodge the sqood... Looked like the little one had finished up breakfast and was ready to start explorin'.

"You know, I don't think I introduced myself yet," Rex said directly to the baby. "My name's Rex. I'm an Aegis Driver, like you." Oh, Gramps was gunna bust a seam when he saw her. Cute as a button, she shyly hid herself against Malos's chest. Rex continued, pausing as appropriate so everyone could say hello: “This is Mòrag, and Brighid, and Aegeaon. Nia and Dromarch you already met. Pyra, here, is the one who cooked. And this is Mythra. Pyra and Mythra are Aegises, too. You could call ‘em Malos’s sisters.”

Nia snorted into her tea. Dromarch coughed. Aegeaon blinked. Brighid actually opened her eyes. Mòrag kept her reaction well hidden. Pyra sputtered.

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Mythra fumed.

“Technically, that is true, what with you all being Aegis Blades,” Akhos hummed with a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile.

“Shut _up_ Akhos,” Malos growled.

“Question is which one’s older,” Nia chortled.

“Not. Helping,” Mythra hissed. Paused. “Besides. Its obviously Pyra.”

Pyra did a double-take. “M-Mythra!”

Well! This conversation had gone right off the rails. Still, Rex counted it a success: Malos’s little lady was giggling. Still hiding best she could in Malos’s lap, but no longer so shyly frightened of everyone and everything.

“What’s your name?” Rex asked into the lull caused by multiple sulking Aegis Blades.

The child opened her mouth as though to answer. When all that came out was not even a squeak of sound, her expression fell, and she planted her face into Malos’s waist. Her hands clung to Malos like the Aegis was the only thing keeping her from sinking to the Cloud Sea’s bed.

Malos put both his arms around her, his expression turning sadly soft. “Her name’s Millie,” Malos answered in her stead. “She’s gone through a lot of shit.”

“Fair enough,” Rex demurred. “But tomorrow’s a new day, ya? Things will start looking up from here on out. Give ya my word, as a fellow Aegis Driver.”

“Don’t give your word if you can’t keep it,” Malos warned. He held the little one closer, his eyes hardening as they turned on Rex.

“I mean what I say, and I say what I mean,” Rex swore. Pyra and Mythra were a warm pair of weights at his side. “The rest of this situation is utterly mad, no argument. But at least this much is clear: You’ve got a second chance, Malos. You and Akhos both. Why blow it by doing the same things as before when you know you’ll fail again? Why not try somethin’ completely different instead?”

“Such as?” Akhos inquired mildly.

“Well, such as writing a play. What?” Rex demanded, grinning at Akhos’s look. “You’re the one who kept going on about scripts.” While Akhos adjusted his glasses in an effort to regain his composure, Rex turned back to the Aegis and his Driver. “Malos, you could – I don’t know. Learn how to cook sweets and open your own shop! You’ve got a taste-tester already lined up.”

Malos’s flat look did all his yelling for him.

“Can’t exactly take you out to a pub to talk out all the options over cold drinks. Still ain’t old enough to!” Rex chortled.

Malos smacked himself in the face with his open palm. From his lap, Millie gave a concerned squeak. After a beat Malos drug his hand down his face; looked pointedly at Mythra.

“Nope. Hasn’t changed,” Mythra confirmed, grinning. Pyra likewise giggled.

Malos glared at Rex. Took a deep breath, visibly counting backwards from ten. Malos growled at length, “Sweets?” with his tone adding an implied, _Seriously?_

“Why not? Kids like sweets, don’t we, Millie?” Rex winked.

Millie giggled. And that seemed to be that.


	5. School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A reviewer reasonably and fairly pointed out that Mythra's reaction to everything has been... understated, given Golden Country. I started writing this fic before Golden Country had even been announced. At the time of writing it, I had no idea just how... messed up (for lack of better descriptor) Malos and Mythra's initial relationship was. I knew it was bad from in-game context, but didn't have a clue it was THAT bad.
> 
> Which is a long-winded way of saying: Yeah. This fic is NOT Golden Country compliant. Please proceed with caution; Your Millage May Vary.

****The next week fell into a blur.

The three weeks traveling with the tank squad had likewise been a blur; but, it had been a bearable one. There was always something to _do:_ Wildlife needed hunting or materials needing to be gathered. Hell, even after Akhos had taken over babysitting full-time by necessity, Malos could still comfortably kill a few hours under the pretense of caring for his brat.

(Millie was _his brat_ in Malos's mind. Not his Driver. Malos and Drivers were mutually exclusive and -- Father help him -- Malos was finding he _liked_ being depended on for just being himself. He did _not_ want to screw up this whole taking care of someone shit by adding extraneous baggage.)

There were still things that needed doing. There was fending off Rex and his sidekicks, who always seemed to know where to find Malos or Akhos, and who always wanted to "check" on them. And that was outside the mandatory "self care" lessons, the lot of which were _idiotic_ at best. Contrary to popular opinion, Malos _could_ take care of himself.

The lessons on how to cook were an "Oh _Father_ " category all on their own. It at the very least gave Malos an appreciation for Pyra's knife skill set.

If Akhos wasn't sleeping, eating, or Millie-watching, he had his face in books, magazines, or newspaper clippings. Hunting down all the bits and pieces of what had happened over the past year since they'd ... died ... was tedious and time consuming, but necessary. The information they _were_ being fed was tainted at best. Even an idiot could tell Rex's take on how things were all sunshine and rainbows now was complete bullshit.

Akhos hummed around a slice of toast, "Exaggerated, yes. But not completely inaccurate."

"Food is not paint," Malos reminded Millie when his brat's fingers got too close to the jar of Pyra cooked applesauce. Millie stuck her tongue out at him; Malos bopped it with the flat of a spoon. The resulting squeal of delight was enough to get Malos to crack a smile. Handing over the spoon, Malos kept one eye on Millie as his brat fed herself applesauce. The rest of his attention was on Akhos. "What're you on about now?"

"Our favorite friendly stalker's propensity to proclaim the world's been turned into some sort of paradise." Akhos waved away Malos's disdained, disbelieving snort. "I know, I know. It's naïveté in its purest form. But."

Akhos deliberately stopped and ate his toast.

Malos rolled his eyes. "This isn't some damn play, Akhos. Quit waiting for cues."

Seemingly without paying attention, Akhos pushed the bottle of juice the brat had been looking for into grabbing range. The little sound she made as a 'thank you' did not melt Malos's black and frozen heart. (Much.)

"Fine, fine," Akhos sighed with overt dramatics. "This new continent -- this Elysiam, as its being called. Its so new that humans are having to dedicate their full resources to conquering the land and it's monsters rather than each other. They're still behaving like always on a micro scale. Witness: Our Driver."

Millie acknowledged Akhos's indication of her with a wave. Snarky brat.

"But on a _macro_ level, the countries are all playing nicely. For now."

Malos snorted, "Give 'em two hundred years and it'll be back to the status quo."

“Or less, politicians being what they are,” Akhos mused.

Malos hummed. And tapped the top of Millie’s head. The brat put down the loaded spoon and put her fingers flat on the table. The pure, sweet, innocent look she turned on Malos was full of coy acknowledgment. However could Malos think so little of her as to believe Millie would play with her food when he had specifically instructed her not to.

“Nice try, brat. You’re five hundred years too young to get away with it,” Malos quipped. Millie sulked, accepting her plan as foiled with applesauce coated dignity.

“Think its time to learn writing?” Akhos inquired.

“School,” Malos groaned.

It was going to be a pain in the _ass_ to get Millie educated. Educating her themselves was right out; Malos didn’t have the temperament and neither did Akhos. Not educating her was likewise right out. Having an ignorant Driver was worse than having a Driver who lacked the will to fight. Someone who lacked will could be kept out of the way. Someone _ignorant_ could be manipulated into slitting their own throat.

 _Not happening to_ **my** _brat,_ Malos swore.

“As much as it pains me to suggest it,” Akhos began.

Malos _glared_.

Akhos held out his open hands to show he had nothing, not even a clue. “If you have a better option, I’m all ears. We can’t let her grow up uneducated. We’re _Blades_ , not barbarians.”

Malos pointed at Akhos. Akhos packed, _Its cute how you think that’s funny,_ into a raised eyebrow and nudge of glasses.

“Father _damn_ it,” Malos hissed out in frustration.

There was a tap against Malos’s wrist. Looking, Malos found a familiar bottle as the source of the tap. Following the bottle to its end led to looking right at Millie. Who – offered him one of the granola tasting animal-shaped crackers slathered in applesauce. Taking the offering with his left hand (with caution of the gooey mess), Malos ruffled Millie’s hair with his right hand.

“Fine. But _you_ have to ask him,” Malos acquiesced.

Akhos grimaced and polished his glasses.

* * *

 

"Where's the best place to get Millie educated? Well," Rex scratched at his head, "that's a tough one."

"We noticed," Akhos deadpanned.

And had to wonder all over again why he was even doing this. Not _why_ , exactly. As he'd told Malos over breakfast, they were _Blades_. At the very least Akhos was going to get his Driver --

Turn downstage and stage whisper, _Does that fact not do fluttery things to my heart? I know not if I should raise my voice to curse the Architect's name, or heap upon him praise for crafting even a broken Blades such as me in so fine a way. For there before me naps a chance at happiness long since thought lost._

\-- Get his Driver enough of an education to read, write, and reckon for herself. Enough disadvantages against him were _enough;_ Akhos would not tolerate adding an illiterate to his burdens. Malos at least seemed to recognize the importance of the basics... but then, Malos was a hard one to read even when he'd had a one track mind. Now? Akhos kept feeling conversations with the Aegis were eternally off script.

"Couple ah things make it a tough call, you know," Rex figured, either ignoring or ignorant of Akhos's wit. But the boy-almost-a-man gained a soft smile when he looked over Millie sprawled out dead asleep on top of Malos, who was in turn taking up his fair share out of the middle of the couch. And was himself _napping_ in a move that was once more utterly off script.

Rex made sure to meet Akhos's eyes before continuing, proving someone had taught him manners. "She's a fair bit too young to say herself what she wants to do for a vocation. Means you'll be looking at general education, ya? Trouble is, _which_ general education you're talking about. You probably already know this, but what folks call "general education" varies place to place. Uraya has a different curriculum than Mor Ardain, and both o' _them_ are night and day against Fonsett Village. Less said about Indol the better, yeah?"

"Agreed." And no, Akhos _didn't_ know about the different variances. Reading, writing, and arithmetic were the same across all of Alrest. Why would there be differences?

"Uraya starts off by using their Ruler's Proclamation as a how-to for reading and writing. Mor Ardain uses -- I kid you not -- military regulations. Argentim Nopon learn to figure first with example ledgers provided by the Guild; rest of the kids start with picture books. Fonsett," Rex drifted off, brow furrowing in thought.

"Let me guess. Salvager manuals?" Akhos joked.

"The Salvager's Code may not be a bad place to start, come to think of it."

What. "What?" Akhos demanded aloud.

"Not that Code," Rex waived the thought off. "It's -- Millie's got trouble talkin', right? Salvagers do, too, when they're under. So the Guild put together a basic code book of hand signals all salvagers have ta learn. Can pick it up at any salvager spot. It's got pictures, basic vocabulary, some numbers, even one of those practice ledgers from Argentim!"

Akhos opened his mouth to counter. Shut it on a thoughtful hum. Crazy as it sounded, "That may not be a bad idea."

Surprisingly, peace held as Blade and boy considered their various options.

"Is it that obvious she has difficulty communicating?" Akhos asked, nearly shocking himself with the question.

"She can communicate quite dandy," Rex countered, grinning broadly. "It's the talking part that's givin' her trouble. Any...?"

"As far as can be told, it's not physical," Akhos answered, pushing up his glasses. "At least not a physical aspect that can be seen. I'm leery to probe if it's a neurological issue. Psychological is possible, but I doubt it. She's too young."

"You're never too young to be traumatized," Rex mused.

Oh Architect. Hearing Rex sound cynical was _depressing._ Completely out of character. The dissonance punched Akhos in the face, and he wasn't even sure why.

"I think... I think having someone who needs you is the best thing, for you, for now. Gives ya something to do bedsides angst, yah know? Best thing for Malos for sure. Haven't seen him blow up at all, and everyone knows I can try the patience of the Architect 'mself."

Rex being introspective and philosophical _on top_ of glints of cynicism?

"Is there an apocalypse coming?" When Rex gave him a look, Akhos pushed his glasses up. "You just made sense. Actual, logical sense."

"Aw, come off," Rex chuckled, cordially punching Akhos in the arm.

Another item for the list: Hanging out with Rex... was _actually fun_. Like hanging out with Mikhail in a way, except Rex was significantly denser.

"Here." Rex pulled a book from his ever present salvager pouch. "It's a bit dog eared, but you 'nd Malos can borrow it for a bit. See if it'd work for ya."

"You don't expect one of _us_ to--" Akhos started, staring at the book for the weapon it was.

"Dunno anybody who could tutor her, 'cept for aunt Corrine, but she's back in Fonsett. Mmmm. Nia, maybe? Or Mythra? ...Pyra?"

Akhos looked over the top rims of his glasses.

"Gramps?"

The infantile Titan _was_ the least horrific of bad options...

"We'll consider it," Akhos temporized.

Rex chuckled with that eternal good-natured cheer that made him so... so blasted _bubbly_. Setting the book down, he said, "I'd better get going then. G'day!" And without a backwards glance walked out the door.

Akhos picked up the book; weighed it. Judged the distance and threw it at the extra in the room.

Malos kept his right hand on Millie's back; his left snapped into the air, catching the book long before it could impact his face. Still wordless, Malos opened the book one-handed and started thumbing through the pages. After a measured dose of silence, Malos closed the book.

Malos snorted, "Humph. At least Azurda isn't an asshat."

Ringing endorsement, coming from Malos.

"This afternoon, then?" Akhos inquired.

Another snort. "Whatever."

Schedule thus set, Akhos recollected the book. He'd been in the mood for a light comedy; this should be just the thing.

* * *

 

Hardhaigh Palace had its own military port. This, Malos had already known. Hell – Mikhail had infiltrated the place twice that Malos knew of to extract intel on Core Crystal shipments to Indol. But to actually see it, right up front and in his face, _without_ the port’s vast assortment of weapons being turned on him… It was something else. An escort comprised of Pyra, Rex, the Jewel of Mor Ardain, and the Flamebringer was likewise something else but – damn.

He had also never figured he’d have another Driver and/or be holding onto said Driver. So. Another item for that Titan’s armpit of a list. They were up to twenty line items now? Forty? Father, Malos needed a sane, reasonable distraction.

Rex broke ahead of their merry band of madness. Waiving as he ran forward, Rex called, “Hey there, Gramps!”

A familiar horned head lifted up above a stack of crates three times Malos’s size. Akhos skipped a step, rolling back into guard position. Malos was tempted to draw his weapon and join him, save for the fact his hands were full of brat.

“Humph,” the familiar voice of Azurda rumbled through the immediate yard. “Rex. You’re late as usual. Next time, I’m waiting for you at Anagham Dock.” The Titan gave a leery look at a gaggle of Ardanian soldiers on dockworker duty. “I felt less sized up when Umon was taking my measurements for a new crane. Go on, shoo,” he ordered the lollygags. “I’ll not be put into some metal yoke and straitjacket, thank you very much!”

“No member of the Ardanian military would dare lay hand upon you, Azurda. Have no fear of it,” the Special Inquisitor intoned.

“His Majesty was quite clear on the matter,” added the Jewel of Mor Ardain.

The dockworkers took the cue and exited, stage right, as Akhos would say.

“Humph,” Azurda emphasized. “Well. So long as that’s _clear_.”

“I will insure it is.” The Flamebringer took off her hat and bowed her head.

Azurda squirmed, such as a Titan of his size could squirm. “Oh, do stop, Mòrag. You’re making an old man blush.”

“Surely not,” Brighid teased.

“Add another item to the list,” Akhos said under his breath.

Shaking his head, Malos advanced. “Azurda! You son of a – The hell happened to you? Last I saw, you were barely fit to be a brat’s stuffed doll.”

Azurda’s eyes narrowed. A thin curl of smoke escaped his jaw. “You’re one to talk. Last I saw _you_ , you were disintegrating back into base ether particles. A fitting end for an Aegis who fancied himself the endbringer.” Azurda exaggerated his head tilt so that the tip of his horn pointed at Akhos. “You. Akhos, was it? You, I cannot say I hold ill against, given how you acted at your end. My sympathies for the loss of your family.”

“Wha…?” Akhos breathed.

“I am very old, young Blade. I have had the misfortune to hear screams like yours once before. They are not uttered, save in the face of tragedy unspeakable.”

“Cut the crap, Azurda,” Malos ordered, taking a half step forward to draw the Titan’s gaze.

“Why ever should I?” Azurda fired back, eyes narrowing. “Your newest traveling companion’s presence is hardly a reason to hold my tongue when weighed against your past transgressions. And I assure you, over the days Rex, his companions, and I spent chasing after you -- rushing after you, more truthfully. Only to find what you did to Pyra exceeded my darkest nightmares... Oh? Why the look? You think I don’t know _exactly_ what you did to her, to mend your Core Crystal? Ha!” The bite of laughter was the opposite of jolly. “I have an excessive amount of your namesake to dump upon you, Malos.”

The Titan leaned towards them. “Give me one good reason why I should lift as much as a blade of grass off my back to assist you. And so help me, Malos, if you hide behind that babe, I will show you full well the meaning of _pain_.”

“Azurda, its,” Pyra began.

“Really, Gramps,” Rex tried.

“ _ **No**_.”

The depth to Azurda’s voice was a weapon all its own. Azurda did not take his eyes off Malos, and the two children fell silent.

_We can find someone else. Fonsett. Rex said he knew a lady in Fonsett who could teach the brat the basics. I don’t have to stand here and deal with this. I don’t… I… Jin… What do I do?_

“I’m sorry.”

Azurda’s head loomed over Malos. The weight of the Titan’s emotions was as heavy as the Titan himself.

“Be. More. Specific,” Azurda growled.

Father, what the hell was he even – “I’m sorry for… for hurting Pyra.”

The weight loomed closer. Heavier. Heavy enough to press down into his chest. Heavy enough to make him wonder how his brat wasn’t already a pancake.

“No,” Azudra mused calmly, “I don’t think you are.” The weight lifted as Azurda pulled back. “But admitting a failing is a starting point for learning how to overcome a weakness in one’s self. The fortitude of will to overcome that weakness is just as critical to survival as learning an Arts. Get on, the lot of you. I’m not about to teach phonics in this stifling port.”

Stunned silence. Rex’s, “Bwhu?” summed it up.

“That was a test?!” Akhos gagged.

“And would you let him up on your back without verifying for yourself if even half the outlandish stories about the two of you were true?” Azurda demanded of Akhos.

Akhos adjusted his glasses, yielding, “That is a… fair point.”

“Right then. All aboard who’s coming,” instructed Azurda.

Knees feeling like a cooked jelly concoction, Malos fell in with the others, absently recognizing the Flamebringer and her Blade were staying put. What. The hell. Had just happened. Apologizing? Him? There wasn’t a damn reason for Malos to apologize! He’d…! He’d been following his own will…! Hadn’t he? Trying to think through his reasoning at the time caused his head to ache; the memories were muzzy, like he was remembering reading about someone else’s life.

 _Not the first time that’s happened. Back, when I first… woke up. Pyra,_ Malos figured. _Get the brat distracted, get Akhos to play interference, grab Pyra, and… talk._

Because it wasn’t like there was another Aegis he could ask to start trying to figure this shit out. ...Mythra didn’t count; the history between them, and her attitude being too much like his own, meant neither of them were going to make any headway before explosions started rapid-fire.

* * *

 

Azurda had been right, cranky old Titan that he was. Heading out from Mor Ardain for a bit was a good idea. That sense of _watching_ which had been plaguing her all week drifted away the further out from shore they traveled. Maybe, with this otherwise utterly unplanned excursion as a distraction, her sister and the others could get to the bottom of their current mystery. ...well. Their _other_ current mystery.

Pyra watched out the corner of her eye as Malos watched Millie discover what grass was. There was a faint, almost invisible smile playing across Malos's lips. It was utterly hidden if you weren't paying attention.

Love her like a sister as she did, Pyra admitted Mythra... had some shortcomings. Many of those shortcomings Pyra shared. But at least Pyra could keep a lid on her temper more readily than Mythra could. Which was why figuring out who Malos was now – had fallen to Pyra.

Rex stretched noisily. "It's a lovely day. Great weather for salvaging!"

"Every day is a great day for salvaging for you, Rex," Azurda teased jovially. Even so, Pyra could feel his tension. Malos has been an enemy for so long... This had to be hard for him.

"Right enough, Gramps. Right enough," Rex chuckled. "Say! You've got those maps on you?" Rex barely waited for an answer before turning to the other odd duck in their group. "You any good with charts 'n things, Akhos?"

"Not exact– gah!"

Pyra hid a giggle behind her hands. Once Rex got set on something he thought worthwhile, he could bowl over whole armies. Poor Akhos hadn't had a prayer.

Malos rolled his eyes. Millie looked at where Rex had drug Akhos into the aerodynamic lean-to near Azurda's aft end, then turned back to Malos. The tilt of her head needed no words for translation.

"Looks like Akhos is getting schooled today, too," Malos chuckled.

Ooohhh...! Pyra held in a squeak, just barely. That was a dangerously cute wobble of lower lip.

Malos's voice gentled from its usual gravel to a softer abrasion as he knelt down closer to Millie's height. "Hey. None of that. We talked about this earlier, remember?"

The toddler's lips puckered.

"Don't give me that, you. You remember just fine. Even if you don't believe it, there's some shit in this world Akhos and I can't teach you. So, Azurda's going to."

The child turned her gaze on the watching Azurda, and was unimpressed indeed.

"No, Azurda was in the right. You remember that time you tried to bring a pippito into the cannon Titan? And how everyone scolded you?" Malos waited for a reluctant acknowledgment. "I did something even worse, not long ago. There are consequences for giant screwups. Some consequences last a lot longer than no applesauce for three nights straight. Got it?"

The puckering frown lasted another minute. Then, reluctantly, Millie nodded.

"Good." Malos stood. "Now, I gotta go talk boring stuff with Pyra." He waited for a nod affirmative, ignoring how it was the opposite of firm. Returning the nod, Malos met Azurda's eyes. "You take care of my brat, Azurda."

"Must every engagement I have with you involve a threat in some form?" Azurda hummphed. "Oh, do go on, then. Have your boring Aegis secret chat. I'm sure it will be dull as watching hull paint dry. Meanwhile, you can rest assured _we_ won't be holding any such boring conversation."

Millie gave Azurda a stink eye so like Malos's, Pyra had to swallow a laugh.

"Did either Akhos or Malos ever get around to telling you how the world began?" Azurda asked his newest pupil.

If there was an audible answer, it was lost beneath Malos asking, "There any damn place on this asshat to have a private conversation at?"

...it was _asking_ by Malos standards, anyway.

And it was a fair question. The lean-to was the one visible spot on Azurda's back that wasn't out in the open. But there was another spot where prying eyes at human height couldn't see, but Azurda still could.

"There is one spot," Pyra acknowledged aloud, heading towards the lean-to. Malos made no comment save to follow behind her.

"Are these depth readings accurate?" Akhos could be heard asking.

"Far as can be figured," Rex was answering. The both of them were wholly engrossed in the mini mountain of charts Rex had dug out.

"How could the Cloud Sea loose depth and get deeper _simultaneously_?" Akhos demanded.

"Bloody hell if I know. If you do figure it out, every salvager in Alrest 'll buy you drinks for perpetuity," Rex hummed.

Ah, yes. The depth problem. Rex had been banging his head against that problem since – well. About the day after Alrest hadn't ended. Following the thin cut in the rocks besides the lean-to, Pyra left her Driver to it. It wasn't longer than a minute before the break opened onto a grassy knoll overlooking Azurda's starboard thigh. A nice, quite niche, barely big enough for two.

"Will this do?" Pyra asked, heading to the far edge. Right here, she could dangle her legs out into the blue and lean against the sun-warmed rock. It was a nice place for a nap.

"Mmph," Malos opined. He hesitated a moment longer, then sat next to Pyra, with his legs crossed so his feet weren't dangling.

Pyra sighed, content, soaking up the warmth of Azurda's back. It was all well and good to let Malos have time to collect himself – but they were on something of a schedule. A child's patience could only last for so long, and charts were only so distracting. Pyra wanted to give her fellow Aegis a chance to speak his peace. Instead, all he did was stare at the cloudless sea. Maybe she should...

"I don't have a fucking clue who I am any more."

It was such a _Malos_ way to start, Pyra bit her cheek to keep from chuckling.

"You do seem a fair bit mellowed," Pyra tried diplomatically.

Malos snorted in disdain. "I _hugged Akhos._ That's not _mellowed_."

"Akhos is your friend, isn't he? Why not hug him if he needed a hug?" Pyra wondered. And naturally, Malos gave her a look like she had two heads.

His right hand reached up to rub at his Core Crystal as Malos spat, "Akhos. Is a rat-ass bastard. Who grates on my nerves with his holier than Father attitude. Do not get me started on his damn incessant _obsession_ with theater. He quotes the dumbest things out of plays; _reenacts_ the ones from that sunk excuse for a continent Egil. He is. Not. My friend. He was a means to an _end_."

"You say that. But then you also just listed off what a friend would know." Pyra leaned into Malos's comfort zone when the darkness Aegis gaped at her. "You know the name of the continent his favorite play is from. That's not something you'd memorize if you didn't care."

"I memorized it because he wouldn't stop talking about it!"

"You were in close quarters? I'd think with as large a ship as Torna was using, you could have isolated yourself easily."

"The bridge wasn't sizable."

It was a weak excuse. Pyra could see Malos chafing at his own words as he said them.

Pyra leaned closer, unable to stay back when it was so clear another person was in pain. "Your Core Crystal."

"What?" Malos met her eyes.

So he hadn't noticed? "You haven't stopped rubbing it since we started talking. Does it hurt?"

"What?" Malos repeated, looking down at the Crystal in question. His fingers jabbed into the flesh around his Core, too hard to be comfortable, before Malos deliberately pulled his hand away. "It isn't bothering me."

Pyra waited with all the patience Mythra lacked.

"It's nothing," Malos huffed, turning to keep Pyra out of his sight.

Pyra waited.

"It... It itches. Off and on. Since I... woke up. It doesn't hurt. It just... bugs me."

"I could scan your data, if you want. See if I can find the root," Pyra offered.

Malos snapped to look at her with jaw hanging wide enough to fit four whole fish.

Pyra leaned back with her hands up, palms towards Malos to show they were empty. "It's only a suggestion! Talking might help, too."

Another minute of staring, and Malos got his eyes and jaw unstuck. "It... Yeah. It's a ... a good idea."

 _No, it's a terrible idea, stop that,_ Mythra would say.

But Pyra had forgiven Malos – well. _Most_ of his transgressions. There were some things she could never forgive. But she could offer a fellow life sympathy at a time when he had no one else to turn to.

Malos turned to face her, his eyes closed. Taking that for permission, Pyra reached forward so her hand was near his Crystal. And _reached_.

 _Night_ swirled into being. The sky, the sea, Azurda, even Malos, all dropped away into an endless starlit black. The solidity beneath Pyra's feet twinkled with each hesitating step she took. This wasn't at all like her own consciousness. No grass, no tree, no... nothing. Endless starry black as far as could be seen.

"The stars are new."

Being surprised by Malos's presence in his own consciousness would be silly. Still, for a patch of black to be so immediately filled was disconcerting. ...and then his words hit, and Pyra felt tears threaten. No one's projection of self should be a void.

 _Enough. Focus,_ Pyra chastised herself. "Could you pull up the memory of when you first noticed your Core Crystal acting up?"

"Not going to pull it up yourself?" Malos asked.

They both knew what would happen if she did. Still, he needed _something_ , so Pyra nodded negative. Another beat past between them.

Malos gestured with his hand as of to snag a star from the sky. The memory blazed into life between them in the form of a flat picture. Pyra ignored the ugly landscape as seen through Malos's eyes; acknowledged but continued unhindered by the emotional imprint attached to the memory. Malos's anger had always been _like_ fire – but Pyra _was_ fire. She knew how to move through flames without being burned.

"Analyzing," Pyra warned as a courtesy. The data trickled through her fingers as she processed it. Everything _looked_ normal. Then again, she didn't have a solid baseline to compare it to. "Can you..." She hated to ask –

"When Amalthus woke me," Malos guessed. His voice was ice in its neutrality.

"It doesn't have to be then. Just... some time before... you know." It was hard to say _died_. Mostly because his death had hurt more than either she or Mythra had expected.

There was a thick silence. Then, with another plucking gesture, Malos called up a different memory. This one had the three other Torna members in it: Akhos, Patroka, and the blond whose name Pyra didn't know. All three were looking down at Malos; literally looking down. The blond had one hand extended in offer of assistance.

"This is right after Ophion remolded the cliff," Malos clarified. There was a half minute of hesitation. "It's the closest thing to that itch I remember."

Pyra nodded. It would work for a baseline.

The emotions stamped into the memory were similar to the first memory Pyra had analyzed. The anger was a boil in comparison to the earlier memory's simmer. What Malos called an itch registered as a subconscious item, not something worth noticing. What was missing was context --

 _"What happened? Where's Jin? Is he – no. He can't be dead. I still need him for my goals he_ can't _be dead! We need to get to the ship, get to_ Jin!"

Pyra separated herself from the memory-thought tangle. That was… more than enough to put it into context. Drifting her fingers through the memory, she analyzed it. The only difference was the intensity of Malos’s anger. Everything else seemed, on a whole, equal.

“Jin was a good friend to you.” Pyra sighed, “And I was a terrible friend to him. I should have asked more questions. I should have dug deeper. None of what happened to him, to the Torna he rebuilt – none of it had to happen.”

“Are you seriously that naive?” When Pyra met Malos’s gaze, the dark Aegis growled, “Jin. All of Torna. They were _nothing_ more than a means to an end. I felt. _Nothing_. For them.”

...oh. Sadness bubbled up like a deep, dark sea inside her. Malos was serious – and it made everything crystal clear. It was no wonder Malos had wanted to end the world, when he had been so full of malice and self-loathing that the concept of love was so foreign as to be unrecognizable. It was no wonder Jin with his heart as kind as the Cloud Sea was wide... No wonder Jin had reached out his hand to Malos.

Pyra braced herself.

s _earching for target match found transmitting_

The process ran at the speed of thought. Before Malos could react, Pyra was playing out a full memory between them. Emotions, thoughts, audio, visual – the whole package. She focused on each little detail: Corinne’s kitchen. Nia, for once not in her usual jumper, with a hairnet over her ears. Rex’s laughter mingling with Dromarch’s and Azurda’s and everyone’s laughter from outside. The feel of cookie dough sticking to her hair, dripping down her face. Nia shifting back, claws barred, hissing, “ _It was an accident! Don’t you dare--!_ ” The satisfying _splat_ sound of a retaliatory dough strike hitting Nia’s nose. Screams of laughter and bubbles of joy all threaded through with love for Nia; for all of her friends, as they all jumped into the dough fight for their own reasons. The four hours it had taken to get the kitchen clean again had been worth the twenty minutes of delicious madness.

“This.” Pyra strummed the threads of _love care for you friend_ that made the memory so special. “Feels familiar? It should. Its the same emotion frequency as in both of those memories. You **cared** , Malos. Even if you didn’t know it – _you **cared**_.”

Malos backed away, eyes wide. “No… _No!_ ”

Pyra hugged Malos.

Malos was stronger than her. He could have severed the connection and removed Pyra from his mind. But he didn’t. Shaking, his arms wrapped around Pyra’s shoulders, and held tight.

“Mythra’s right, you know. You really are a five hundred and two year old brat,” Pyra teased without reproach. “After all, it takes maturity to know its alright to cry.”

The data connection terminated. Blinking back awareness of herself, the first thing Pyra felt was the wetness of tears. Next was the weight of arms around her shoulders and a head resting against her left shoulder. Last came the absence of sound as the endbringer cried for his own lost heart.


	6. Lost and Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone order angst?

 "No leads then, I take it."

"None, Special Inquisitor. We have taken all precaution against incursion. Even if some of those precautions seemed... deviant to protocol."

A faint cough sounded from the corner of the room where Brigid sat at her own desk, reviewing the reports Mòrag was not at liberty to investigate immediately. The fire Blade stated in so smooth a tone as to be called bland, "Congratulations, Captain. I believe you are the current front runner for how best to put diplomatically the Garfont Mercenaries' suggestions."

"Thank you, Lady Brigid. I think." The captain snapped back to attention. "While I still wish my objections kept noted, I must concede the mercenaries' outside perspective has improved capital security. As their band leader is here I presume you have contacted them for additional assistance."

Mòrag rested her elbows upon her desk, steepling her fingers as she leaned forward. "The man in question is here on personal business. I cannot call upon his resources further at this time. Not without drawing the attention of those parties who would take just as ruthless advantage of the situation as our current unknown saboteurs."

"Tryin' to assassinate a baby," the captain tutted. "It isn't right, ma'am."

"Even if she is the Driver of the Aegis of Destruction?" Mòrag hummed.

"Especially then, Special Inquisitor. History is bloody clear. The Aegis of Destruction can act without a living Driver. _Has_ acted without one. If the lass dies, there'll be a live reenactment of the Death of Torna right in the heart of Alba Cavanich. We cannot let it happen."

Turning to look out onto the docks, Mòrag concurred, "No. We cannot."

Speak of the devil, as they say. Old Gramps was pulling into dock. Once cleared, his great head turned back to his passengers, where he said something that got some kind of a reaction. Was that... a bit of condensed darkness ether being released? Whatever its cause, Mòrag was certain she would hear about it one way or another.

"I suppose that will put paid to the rumors anyone over the age of three has any control over that man," Brigid hummed.

The captain snorted, "Doubt it, ma'am."

Azurda's return with his student and her favored Blade called to mind the time. There was still much to be done this day, and not many hours left in which to complete it.

"You have spoken with Blade Akhos?" Mòrag confirmed.

The captain shuddered. "Interrogated by, more like. T'weren't for the stories, I'd'ah think that Blade would be the one called Endbringer."

"He can be... intense," Brigid concurred.

"He'll keep a weather eye out, that much he assured. And then wouldn't tell me _how_ he planned to do just that."

"Keep your men sharp," Mòrag warned.

The captain saluted, "Aye, Special Inquisitor!" And took his leave as Mòrag stood.

"To His Highness next?" Brigid inquired.

"Dispatch first, I think." Mòrag touched her Blade's twin swords, assuring herself of their presence. "Let us see what the Trade Guild has for sale."

"Perhaps a nice choker?" Brigid mused.

Mòrag allowed herself a small smile before heading straight to business.

* * *

 

The end of week two at Hardhaigh Palace loomed over their little band with a weight that was palpable. All the excursions on Azurda couldn't disguise it any more.

They were going stir-crazy.

An absence of things to _do_ went against the grain. In Torna, Jin had required they all take down time (except himself, the self-cast martyr), but those breaks lasted a day or two at most. Then it was right back to their shoulders against the wheel, working side by side to accomplish the myriad little things that would make their dream a reality. In the end they'd failed, but...

Akhos put down the book he wasn't reading in hopes of putting down old memories with it.

"I need to get out of here."

"Father, _yes_ , we all do."

Akhos jerked, caught unaware by the Aegis of their party. That Malos had to grab his shoulder to keep Akhos from falling off the sofa was just embarrassing.

"I thought you were napping!" Akhos hissed, fluster adding acid to his tone.

"The brat is napping. I am damned _bored_ ," Malos clarified. "And when she wakes up, she's gonna be just as crazy as the both of us."

Akhos got himself rebalanced metaphorically and literally. "You said she'd blown up during Azurda's take on a history lesson. That bad?"

Malos huffed out a sigh filled with his namesake. "She's trying. So damn hard. It's like the words get _stuck_ up against a wall. _And I can't blast it._ "

Akhos winced. That bad, indeed.

"The capital is supposed to have a spectacular market. At the least, we can loose the tails we've picked up," Akhos suggested.

Malos frowned. "You're not talking about Mythra and her merry band of madmen, are you."

It wasn't a question. Akhos answered it anyway: "Did you know Palace Security caught an assassin fussing with the air vents? They weren't after the Emperor."

Malos paused, digesting that. The smack as he slapped his hand against his face wasn't loud enough to cover his groan. " _Humans._ "

"Worse. Politicians." Akhos waited for another groan to pass. "All they see is a darkness element of a golden opportunity. Put the power of an Aegis in the," Akhos paused, " _right_ hands, and the Emperor would have no choice but to fold. They can't go after Pyra or Mythra. Rex would die first before allowing them to come to harm, and the masses would fillet anyone who hurt their sainted hero."

"Sainted?" Malos pounced.

"In all but name. Never thought I'd feel sorry for him. He's got _shrines_ ," Akhos confirmed.

"...add it to the list," Malos decided.

Akhos agreed. To get back on topic... "Should we warn anyone before we leave?"

"Why, Akhos. It sounds like you _want_ to avoid a panic," Malos snarked.

"Architect forbid," Akhos chuckled. "But in all seriousness -- should we? Unless you pickpocketed a sack of gold at some point and forgot to say so, we're a tad short on capital. We behave, we get bribed."

Malos nodded, conceding the point. "Be a nice change to get the drop on my..."

"Dear sisters?" Akhos guessed.

The hesitation caused an emotion that was not concern to dance along Akhos's spine. After a beat too long, Malos murmured, "There's a chance, you know. Patroka --"

No. This was not a conversation Akhos would have. "I'll go see if I can find Nia or Dromarch," Akhos said, standing.

"Damnit, Akhos!" Malos snapped.

Akhos hesitated, keeping his back to Malos.

"Hope hurts, damn it. Patroka might be a Core Crystal. _Jin_ might be. Hell -- _Mikhail_ might be alive, too! And it... hurts... to know that. And not be able to do a damn thing. Hating everything was so much simpler."

Malos. Talking about _feeling_ s. That were in no way related to maliciousness.

"Yes. It was," Akhos agreed. Followed by an immediate exit down stage left before whatever madness had seized Malos could get a hold of him as well.

Two weeks in residence at Hardhaigh Palace was not long enough to learn the layout beyond the basic entrances and exits. At some point, a madman with a penchant for mazes had reworked the guest wing. Or something. Honestly, it wasn’t as if Akhos had gotten lost in the hallways because he was… unsettled. Malos was still a gruff, uncouth, dispenser of vitriol, who harbored no feelings save hatred towards humans. Having been forcibly tied to a human via resonance had just… shaken Malos, a bit. He wasn’t any different from before.

A voice that sounded like Patroka huffed, _Like you’re not different? Blades change when they return to their Core Crystals. They change when a new resonance happens. It can’t be helped._

No, it couldn’t. But Akhos was sure enough in his sense of self to be reasonably confident in his ability to recognize if a _two year old_ were affecting him through the ether bond. ...well, more so than she already had. That feeling of _must protect_ was new.

(Or very, very old – no, not going there.)

Akhos hesitated. Could that be the cause of Malos’s unscripted attitude? No – surely not. Malos was an old enough Blade to know how to augment, and conversely mitigate, the effects of an ether bond.

“Akhos?”

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Looked like getting lost was turning to his favor. “Mythra. Just the Aegis I was looking for.”

Malos’s opposite number put her hands on her hips and cocked her head, suspicion obvious. “You. Looking for me.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did Malos put you up to this?”

“Cabin fever put me up to this, whatever _this_ is,” Akhos countered.

“ _This_ is wandering around the palace with a look on your face like you got slapped by an eel,” Mythra clarified.

“The cabin fever has me wondering the halls. The look is from...” Well. If there was anyone Akhos could talk to about Malos, it was Mythra.

“Malos had an epic fail at a heart-to-heart discussion, huh?” Mythra huffed, waving off Akhos’s expression. “Yeah, Pyra told me he might run into a few of those. You noticed it too, right? All that hate directing his actions disintegrated when he did. Unlike him, _it_ didn’t come back.” Mytrha’s eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. “Did he really hug you?”

“We were both mutually freaking out about the whole _still alive_ thing,” Akhos pointed out, fussing with his glasses as he did so.

“Fair enough.” Mythra leaned back out of Akhos’s face. “So. Cabin fever and awkward Malos sent you scurrying out of your little lair after me. What for, exactly?”

 _A chance to breathe,_ would be accurate but cruel. Akhos said instead, “Millie had a bad day.”

“Huh. Explains why Malos picked now to be awkward. So?”

“So, the aforementioned cabin fever.”

“You need out of the palace,” Mythra realized.

“Desperately,” Akhos confirmed.

“You know your Driver is at risk.”

“Which is why I plan to take her with me. Malos, too,” Akhos admitted when Mytrha’s gaze upgraded into a glare.

“You. Malos. And a toddler. Unsupervised. And going where, exactly?”

“The market district.” Really, she didn’t have to make it sound like an apocalypse in the making.

“Why do I get the feeling the toddler is the only one who’s going to have common sense?” Mythra asked no one in particular. Akhos pushed his glasses back into place, reading a counter quip. Before he could fire, Mythra heaved a dramatic, “Fine. Let me get Rex. He’s been going on about a new sonar probe for _ages_ now, anyway, so he won’t be hard to convince to tag along. You guys still flat broke?”

“Given how plentiful employment opportunities have been,” Akhos began.

And stopped when Mythra put her finger over his lips. “I will pay you to stuff the attitude.”

“Well with an offer like that,” Akhos chuckled.

Mythra rolled her eyes. “Come on. If we start rounding everyone up now, we can get a last supper before hitting the evening market.”

* * *

 

Big was _amazing._

Which was like saying water was wet. Even she knew water was wet. But it needed saying again: Big was _amazing_. He knew so many things! He didn’t know _all_ the things. But he knew the words to _ask_ what things were. And he knew how to listen to her. Ack tried, and he _was_ pretty awesome at some things. But Ack couldn’t listen like Big could.

 _Big whazzat?_ she tried to say. The words smushed up against the back of her throat and came out all jumble/jangled into sounds that weren’t words at all. It made her want to be angry.

But Big was listening. His deep, dark, not-heard-voice sucked away the angry building up. “Hum?” he hummed, looking down at her.

 _Whazzat?_ she tried again.

“Good question.” Big pointed at the funny dish filled with teeny, tiny red circles. “Mòrag, what the hell _is_ that stuff?”

Hat Lady looked at Big with a funny look, but didn’t set down her teacup. “I would request you watch your tongue, Malos. There are ladies present.”

Big huff/puffed, “Funny.”

“Its imitation Highmore Caviar,” Hot Lady said, cutting in before Hat Lady and Big could start shouting. Ack and Big shouted sometimes, but she thought that was because words got stuck for them, too, sometimes. But she didn’t want to see Big and Hat Lady shouting; it was good for Hot Lady to be rude and interrupt.

“Highmore…?!” Ack made a funny face and played with his glasses. “Isn’t that stuff made with Red Pollen Orbs?”

Hot Lady put her teacup down. “According to legend, genuine Highmore Caviar is made with Red Pollen Orbs and the eggs of a specific Cloud Sea creature: The Tetraodontide. The Tetraodontide were hunted to extinction some nine hundred years ago out of fear of their venomous spines. Modern day Highmore Caviar made for human consumption uses flying flounder eggs mixed with red food dye. It is rather rich. In both meanings of the term.”

“Tastes like crap?” Big guessed with his big happy sounding chuckle voice.

“I find their flavor not far removed from emergency field rations,” Hot Lady hummed.

“Those Titan stepped on crackers?!”

 _Nope_ , she decided. _Nope nope nope nope._ Why would something that tasted so pew-pew be on a table filled with the leftover yum-yum bitty bits that had been dinner?

“Ardanian ideas about desert leave much to be desired,” Ack said.

“It is traditionally meant to be a pallet cleanser. Something to rinse away the heaviness of the main course in preparation for the airier sweets.”

A lot of Fire Lady’s words were big words. But she understood _sweets_ just fine. She didn’t even need to use words, instead looking up at Big with wide eyes. Big gave her a thinking look. He knew exactly what she was asking for, and was being deliberately thick.

“One.” Big held up one finger in front of her nose. “One _small_ sweet. There is going to be no repeat of you and those candies. Not when our next stop is the market. Got it?”

She rolled her eyes. Big didn’t have to worry about _that_.

“Me not worrying about that is bullshit and you know it. One small sweet or none, take your pick.”

Big could be mean. Fine. She crossed her arms and pouted. It had better be the bestest sweet ever!

“Is this just right?” Red Lady asked, handing over a her-sized plate. Big took the plate and looked at what was on it. Nodded with a, “Yeah, should be,” and put the plate in front of her.

Oooh. It looked like a cloud! It was all white and soft. And sticky!

“Now you see why I insisted on the bib,” Ack said to Big. Big made a silly groanny sound.

Sweet! Yum yum yum yum… Why’d Big have to be mean and say only a small one? It tasted _so good_. Maybe she could get Red Lady to make more later? Red Lady was good at cooking.

“Was it good?” Red Lady asked her.

 _Good!_ she wanted to cheer.

“Great!” Red Lady clapped, delighted. “You got a bit on your nose, there.” Red Lady poked her on the nose, in a way like how Big would, but with a little less boop. Laughing, recognizing the game, she grabbed for Red Lady’s hands. “Wanna come with me to get washed up?”

_Big?_

“Go on, brat,” Big said, shooing her off.

“Up you come, Millie.” Red Lady scooped her up into her arms. “Meet you at the salvage shop?”

“Like Rex would let us go anywhere else first?” Gold Lady huff/puffed.

“Hey now!” laughed Red Lady’s boy.

Big rolled his eyes, sharing a, _people are silly_ , look with Ack. Ack gave one of his tiny shrugs that meant, _yes they are_. And then Ack saw she was watching and waived. She waived back. And then Red Lady turned a corner, and she couldn’t see Big or Ack any more.

Big’s big not-a-voice hummed, _safe_. But it was still hard not to listen to the fluttery twist of her insides; to not scream for her Big to come _right now_. Red Lady was okay. And Red Lady’s boy said Red Lady was like Big. But Red Lady wasn’t Big; she didn’t know how to listen through the jumble/smoosh her words turned into. And Red Lady was looking at her funny as she set her down next to a big sink.

“Am I scary?” Red Lady asked. She blinked. “Its… Well. You have a strong ether link with Malos. I felt you pull on that link when we walked away.”

She didn’t know what an ether whatsit was, but… _Red Lady isn’t scary_ , she wanted to say. _Red Lady isn’t Big._

Red Lady took a handkerchief and got it wet in the sink. “Malos is biggest person in your life. Is that it?” She nodded. Red Lady held her hands gently and used the wet handkerchief to wipe away the leftover yum-yum. “And… when you can’t see the biggest person in your life… You get scared. And you try to reach for him. Right?” She nodded again. “Has Malos always been with you?”

_Yes! Except when he went to do boring stuff with Jac-Jac. But then Big was with Jac-Jac and Jac-Jac looked after him. Ack is like Big, but he’s not Big, and Ack isn’t like Jac-Jack except sometimes he is. Big needs to be reminded to take naps. Ack doesn’t remind Big to take naps._

“You worry about Malos a lot. Is that why you reached for him just now?” Red Lady asked.

She tried not to get angry with Red Lady. Red Lady wasn’t Big. Red Lady didn’t know how to listen. But what Red Lady had almost-heard was close enough to what she’d wanted to say, so she nodded in a clear, _Yes_.

“Mythra and I worry about him, too.” Red Lady cleaned up the handkerchief. “Malos was… hurt. Its been a year, but it was a… Oh, how do I put this.” Red Lady squeezed the last of the water out of the handkerchief. “Malos got… An ouchie. A really, really big ouchie. That ouchie was so big, it makes Malos cranky, like he hasn’t taken a nap all day.”

She knew it! Big _did_ need more naps! But was Red Lady saying Big had a boo-boo? It was hard to take naps when things were hurtie.

“Its not the kind of ouchie anybody can heal, though. Not even Akhos. So, Mythra and I… we worry about him, just like you. So if… So if for any reason you think Malos doesn’t feel good, you can tell us, alright? We’re all on the same side. The side that wants to help Malos. Do you understand?”

If Big didn’t feel good, Ack would take care of him. That was what Ack did. ...but sometimes Ack _didn’t_ take care of Big. Thinking about it made her head all hurtie.

She held out her pinky finger. Red Lady knelt down so they could look one another in the eye. Very, very gently, Red Lady hooked their pinky fingers together.

“Promise. The three of us will take care of Malos no matter what.”

She nodded and shook pinkies.

“Do you need to use the restroom?” Red Lady asks kindly.

Mmm. Well. A little. At least Red Lady was kind about it. Even Big got a silly face sometimes when he helped her use the potty. But Red Lady smiled and helped her out and even helped wash her hands all nice and clean. Red Lady wasn’t Big, but she was a lot like him.

And Red Lady was alright with her holding on _very tight_ when Red Lady walked them out of the big place. The streets were so full of _people…_ She’d get lost so fast. She wanted Big. Big was bigger than the whole world. Big wouldn’t let her get lost.

“Ah, there they are,” Red Lady hummed.

_Big!_

“Yeah, yeah, clingy brat,” Big grumbled, plucking her from Red Lady’s arms. She wrapped her arms around Big and held tight. With Big there, the noisiness and people and _all_ the things weren’t scary. And Big was big enough she could look all over without letting go.

Red Lady’s boy was bouncing all over the place, looking at all the shinies and dull thingies and doohickeys. Gold Lady was standing off to the side, one hand pressed against her face, like she couldn’t watch Red Lady’s boy being silly. Hat Lady was talking to Ack about something, and Hot Lady was watching Ack and Hat Lady talk. Red Lady went over to her boy and watched, giggling, as he talked. There was a stranger behind a counter who watched them all, laughing now and then. And there –

She saw it. And had to blink. Sparklies? Like Big and Ack’s sparklies? Why was it adults had to put shiney sparklies up high _all the time_? If Big hadn’t been holding her, she’d have never seen them.

_BigBigBig!_

“What?” Big demanded.

_Look! I found sparkly shines that look like you and Ack!_

Big huffed like he would when he wasn’t listening. He shifted her in his grip and demanded, “What is it?” Since he wasn’t listening, she pointed instead. Big looked where she was pointing – and he made the funniest face _ever_. “Akhos!”

Ack stopped talking to Hat Lady. Ack sounded upset when he said, “Malos?”

Big pointed at the sparklies. Ack looked – and then Ack made an even funnier face than Big!

* * *

 

The brat was laughing at him, and Malos was too stunned to care. Hanging out in an obscure corner of the salvage shop, placed in a gold plated glass display box, and otherwise looking innocuous were three Core Crystals. There was a cloth or something tossed halfway over the box, like the proprietor was embarrassed the things even existed. Maybe he was given the Core Crystals looked flawed; contaminated.

They were the most amazing things Malos had seen in five hundred years.

Jin was alive. Sleeping as a Core Crystal, but alive. Patroka, too, a fact Akhos had immediately recognized if his expression was any tell. How the last of the three Core Crystals could even _exist_ was something Malos wasn’t going to bother thinking too hard on.

A faint gasped, “What on Alrest…?” from Rex caught Malos out of his stupor. The salvager was moving before Malos, Akhos, or anyone else could get their feet in gear. The proprietor was trying to get between Rex and the box; Rex dodged him with easy grace.

“Don’t…!” Akhos started to say.

“I’ll be careful with ‘em,” Rex promised.

If there had been one thing Rex hadn’t done last year, it had been break a promise. Knowing that, Malos felt himself relax, even when part of him wanted to rip the box out of Rex’s hands. That would mean handing over his brat – Pyra. Pyra could hold her. Malos needed to get his hands on those Core Crystals and soon.

“Titan’s _foot_.” The boy treated the box with due care for its contents. To him, they probably looked like shaped stones. They glowed, and were roughly the right shape, but even at this distance Malos could see – “They’ve got cracks in ‘em!”

Oh. Oh, _no_.

“Malos, can you…?” Mythra started to ask.

“Not here,” Malos snapped. And he wasn’t even sure _what_ he was talking about. Could he do… what? Repair Core Crystals?

Mythra rolled her eyes, “Duh.”

“I’m sorry, sirs, ladies, but these,” the proprietor started to say.

“Where’d you get these?” Rex demanded. And he was taking Torna out of the box and putting each Core carefully into his salvager pack. Which he was… then handing to Akhos? “Go. Take care of them. We’ll catch up later.”

“But – hey!” the proprietor started to say.

Rex put out a hand, catching the proprietor by his chest. “My name’s Rex. I’m the Aegis Driver.” The proprietor visibly gulped. “You’re gonna tell me where you got those Core Crystals. Right now.”

“B-But...”

“They were Blades of a friend of mine.”

The last sight Malos caught out the corner of his eye was the proprietor turning paper white. The fact he was following the Jewel of Mor Ardain through the packed streets, the tight hold of his brat, Mythra right on his heels – all of it was distant. Detached. Jin was alive. _Jin was alive…!_

His brat was pulling on his hair.

“Brat.” Somewhere between when he’d zoned out and now, they’d made it to the guest chambers. “I’m alright. I’m alright,” he tried to lie. Not fooled, Millie puffed out her cheeks. The comparison between her and an annoyed pippito was enough to shock Malos out of his funk. “You have a weird way of finding friends I thought were dead. I need to do something for a while. You need to stay with Mythra for now. Right?”

“Her being here might make it easier.” Mythra did not back down when Malos glared at her. “You’re thicker than Ardanian steel plating if you haven’t noticed your Driver has a calming influence on you. Working with Core Crystals is tricky. You’re going to need every ounce of patience you can get.”

“I don’t… think they’re cracks.”

It was comical, almost, how Malos and Mythra turned simultaneously to look at Akhos. The electric Blade had arrayed the three Crystals on the largest table in the room. Under the lights, the cracks Rex had seen were clearly visible, even from a distance. Looking closer, Malos could see the cracked areas in question – they aren’t on all of the Core Crystals. Just the one with the least amount of red in its matrix. Taken as a whole the cracked areas took on a pattern, like a fan...

“That’s Mikhail,” Malos knew, voice barely a breath. His brat harrumphed, but thankfully did not scream, when Malos handed her off to an affronted Mythra. In two lengthy steps, Malos was there. “Mikhail.” The cracked Crystal was warm under his fingers. Reaching, Malos, picked up the next glittering Crystal. This one felt like ice in his light grip. “Jin,” he identified the sleeper.

“Then this must be…” Akhos hesitated, fingers not quite brushing the last Core Crystal.

“Patroka,” Malos confirmed. With the way the light had grown brighter when Akhos almost touched the Crystal, there wasn’t anyone else it could be.

“Sister.”

Akhos picked up Patroka’s Core Crystal. Held it gingerly against his own Core. Closed his eyes, concentrating. Malos could see the ether reach from Akhos to the Crystal to form a link and –

Nothing.

Frowning, Akhos tried again. Still, nothing.

“That… That shouldn’t be possible,” Akhos hissed, holding the Core Crystal as tight as he dared. “I’m a _Flesh Eater_. I should be able to resonate with a Core Crystal! Why… Why isn’t it working?” Eyes wide with furry shot to Malos. “What did you do?!”

“Not a damn thing!” Malos snapped.

“Then why can’t I resonate with Patroka’s Core Crystal?” Akhos demanded.

“I don’t know!” Malos roared.

“Bring her back, Malos! Bring my sister back!”

“I can’t!”

...Akhos had a hell of a right cross. Staggering, Malos reached gingerly to prod at his chin. Bruised, definitely. Pissed off as Akhos was, he had _no right_ to punch Malos, and Malos was going to make damn sure Akhos knew it. Crouching low, he –

Blue flames shot up between Malos and Akhos before the former could do more than form a fist.

“That is _enough_.” Brigid stepped into the silence between the two would-be combatants. Deliberately, she gestured towards the main door. “You’re frightening your Driver.”

Damnit. Yes, they were. Malos’s brat was squeezed up against Mythra’s shoulder, hands clenched tight around a lock of Mythra’s hair, eyes scrunched to blot out the world. Mythra had cupped her hand around Millie’s head to help block out the worst of their shouting.

“I don’t care.”

The cold words caused Malos to pause. He’d known Akhos could be ruthless, but the quiet malice in his voice was… something else.

“I don’t care,” Akhos repeated, forcefully shoving his glasses up. “I don’t care if the brat _is_ scared. I don’t particularly care if she dies.”

“You don’t mean that,” Mythra countered.

For the third time in five hundred years, Malos was afraid. Akhos’s expression was a textbook example of a snarl; a composite picture of hatred and malice aforethought.

“Yeah, he does,” Malos heard himself say.

“This is _your_ fault. Everything that happened to Torna, to me, to _my sister_. Its your fault, Malos. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t run you through.”

“Because I’d stop you,” Brigid intervened. At Akhos’s scoff, Brigid added, “This isn’t the time to be fighting amongst yourselves. Its more than likely your Driver --”

“ _I have no Driver._ ”

The words rang through the room, cutting off further protest. The brat stirred in Mytrha’s arms; a faint keen of sadness filled the silence.

Clutching Patroka’s Core Crystal close, Akhos left. And Malos didn’t stop him.


	7. Kidnap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst Warning continues for this chapter. We'll get back to fluff after a plot interlude.
> 
> Torna needs so many, many hugs.

The stars are dull. The planet spinning below is veiled in clouds. There are a few patches, far and spread wide, where the thick clouds break. From the stratosphere it looks as though the world is covered in storms. The dimness of the stars does little to distract from the rolling sea of clouds of the planet. Nor does their dimness hide the desiccated body of this never-never land's occupant.

"You are troubled, Logos?" asks the inordinately old man.

He has his legs tucked against his chest, arms wrapped around his knees, face pressed flush against his thighs. He looks like a brat in the aftermath of a tantrum. He feels like one: Emotionally spent and exhausted, as though the insides of his heart had been scooped out.

"I got into a fight," he answers.

The man holds the peaceful silence. In that silence is an invitation to speak.

He takes it: "I get into fights all the time. That's who I am; what I know how to do. That's the only thing I know how to do. But the fight I got in was with... I dunno what to call him. Friend isn't right. I don't have any friends."

"Oh?" The old man's tone was curious and without judgment.

"He said it was my fault Torna died. It hurt to hear him say that because it's true. It was my mission. They were means to an end." He hesitates. "I miss them. I miss them all a lot."

"If they were means to an end, how can you miss them?" asks the old man logically.

Burring his face, he mumbles, "They were family."

A hand touches his shoulder. A voice achingly familiar says, "Family is harder to get rid of then you think, Malos."

* * *

 

Bolting awake, Malos slapped his hand out into the dark. The damn lights -- where were the damn _lights_...!

"Crap!"

Well, he'd wanted the lights. Malos hadn't wanted sun-strength wattage right in his Father spat on eyes. Gah.

"Damn that hurts."

Disoriented by one of those not-dream feeling dreams and the light burning out his retina, Malos pressed his knuckles against his eyes. Breathed, deliberately slowly, until his shaking evened back to normal. The silent emptiness of the room filtered through the haze that was his brain with all the groggy speed of a turtle. It had to be the dead of the night or close to it. Except...

Head cleared of the majority of the mussiness, Malos could hear the palace guards changing shift. The dead watch didn't change shift until midway to dawn. Akhos was usually up around then, hunting down bits of trivia the Flamebringer would rather keep quiet.

_Akhos..._

No. Malos was _not_ going to go there. Akhos had thrown his own version of a temper tantrum to get at Malos, and hit Malos's brat instead. And that -- that was something Malos would not forgive. If Akhos wanted gone -- fine. Akhos could get gone. Malos did not care about that rat-ass bastard.

A sigh which sounded like an icy wind tickled the hairs on the back of Malos's neck.

"I know, damn it, Jin, you don't need to haunt me!" Malos snapped. Quietly.

The Core Crystal which was Jin kept glowing in its serine, sedate pace. It reminded Malos of the time he'd caught his brat up to her elbows in a jar full of those damn candies: Looked innocent, but knew damn well they were caught.

A cold foot tapped on the echoes of his thoughts.

Yes, Malos was getting off his own train of thought. _Thank you, disembodied Jin, for pointing out I -- gah!_

Malos yanked at his hair. The physical pain was an insufficient distraction. He pulled harder for a minute, then gave it up, furry sputtering out.

"Akhos is Torna," Malos sighed. _He's family._

And like Mythra had said, _Family fights just mean you bring booze to the next round._

Because there _was_ going to be a next round. They _were_ going to -- at the lethal risk of sounding like Rex -- punch each other in the face, and then get shit-faced plastered. Because _they were Torna._

Getting out of bed, Malos headed for the bathroom. Splashing in cold water should knock the rest of the sleep out of his head. What damn idiot had rigged it so that a sane person had to go _through_ the common area to get to the bathroom? Malos wanted to know so he could _talk_ to them about _proper_ \--

The door to the brat's defacto room was open.

The door to the brat's defacto room was open and the stuffed volff plush Pyra had gotten her was on the floor missing its head.

The door to his brat's defacto room was open and a headless stuffed volff was on the floor _and his brat was not there._

" _Akhos!_ "

Malos recognized the crash of someone being violently ejected from bed. The door to Akhos's room opened with a shattering bang of hardwood hitting metal frames. A breath was drawn in a furious snarl.

That petered out into a confused, "Malos?"

Malos pointed. He heard Akhos come over; heard, but could not tear his eyes away. There had been a struggle. A small one. And Malos hadn't noticed, hadn't heard, hadn't...

His brat was gone. Torna was dead. All Malos could think, could hear, was Akhos saying --

"They left a trail."

Malos stiffened, feeling adrenaline surge. The fight hadn't started yet!

"Let's go."

Akhos nodded absently, eyes glued to the floor. There were... small specks of fluff? From the stuffed volff's head; had to be. They were too small for Malos to follow. But not too small for Akhos. So… The glasses were a prop, but they were also a tell -- and now, following behind Akhos, itching to unleash his weapon, Malos finally got it. Akhos had the Keen Eye skill.

All Blades had skills. Some they taught themselves during their Driver's lifetime, and then forgot along with their memories. Some skills, though -- some _stuck_ irreparably into the Blade's Core, and remained with them in some form until the end of their life cycle.

And Akhos had been alive long enough to turn the skill into a damn art. (Malos hoped.)

Akhos stopped at a wall. Glared at the wall as though it had insulted his sister, and not in a good way. Punched his fist _through_ the wall.

_click_

Akhos's grin brought to mind a ferris snapping an armu's neck. Malos's own shit-eater grin matched it.

"Well damn Father. Who'd have thought Ardainians would have secret passages, hum?" Malos snarked, malicious intent palpable on the air.

"Who ever would have thought, indeed?" Akhos quipped, his own malice a spark against Malos's bonfire. And just like that their fight from yesterday was forgotten.

"Three people could walk abreast in here," Malos figured.

"Three people did. Footprints in the dust," Akhos pointed out. "They're either all Blades, knew _exactly_ what they were doing, or had their own light source. Whatever these tunnels were designed for, it wasn't escapes. The hinge here is all wrong; it can only be opened from the inside."

"You did punch through it," Malos noted, and glared into the darkness of the tunnel. "Damn. _I_ can't even see down this shit hole."

A glint of metal flashed out of his peripheral vision hard on the heels of a, "Catch!"

Malos leaned back, letting Akhos catch the whatever it was. Looked like a water tight ether lamp, the kind favored by --

Eyes narrowing, Malos glared at the only salvager he knew.

"Pyra is getting Brigid and Mòrag," Mythra told them without prompting.

“Nia and Dromarch are rounding up the mercs. Between them and the Ardanian military we can have the whole castle searched,” Rex promised.

There was a dangerous glint in the boy’s eyes. Something harsh; not feral, but far from tamed. The glint matched Mythra’s own take no prisoner’s glare. And it was the kind of look Malos remembered in his nightmares: The fight aboard the forgotten vessel, the first time Rex had unsheathed an Aegis’s weapon with intent to stop those in his way, any way he had to.

“I doubt they’d keep her in the castle itself. It would be too easy for us to find her,” Akhos mused.

Adjusting his glasses, Akhos flipped on the ether lamp, and headed into the darkened pathway. Malos followed with enough distance between them so Akhos could draw his weapon. By some unspoken agreement, Rex followed on Malos’s right, and Mythra followed on his left. Both of them gave Malos space to move if he needed, but were also close enough Malos could see them at the corner of his eyes. It was… nice. In a way. Like those times Jin and he had gone on missions together.

“We’ll get Millie back, Malos,” Rex swore softly.

“Damn straight. I haven’t had a chance to spoil my niece rotten yet,” Mythra sniffed decisively.

“Your _niece_?” Malos echoed.

“If Millie is your brat, and you’re my baby brother, that makes her my niece. Simple logic,” Mythra quipped.

Rex tagged on a chuckled, “She’s got you there.”

“ _Little brother?_ ” Malos growled.

Akhos stopping cut the conversation in the quick. Going to one knee, Akhos played the light ahead of them. Three corridors, each narrowed by a full grown Ardanian’s width, branched off from the main path. Each corridor had matching disturbed spiderwebs big enough to be baby arachno webs glittering in the light and at least one set of footprints. At the center of the branch was the stuffed volff toy’s missing head.

“This looks far too neat,” Akhos mused. He took a half step forward as he rose, scooping up the volff head. “Either this route was intended to be a red herring, or they realized the stuffing was creating a trail and split up.”

“I’d say false trail. Brigid having Keen Eye isn’t well known, but it isn’t a secret, either.” Mythra opined.

“We can’t rule them splitting up deliberately, either.” Rex nodded, decided. “We’ll get three of the mercs, or at least three of the Blades, to check these tunnels with some of Mòrag’s people. Everyone else ‘ll scatter in the city ‘nd work their contacts. Be helpful if we could get a general direction...”

Akhos held his right hand to his Core Crystal, head bowed in concentration. After a moment he shook his head, quietly cursing under his breath. “She’s alive. That’s all I’m getting.”

All eyes turned to Malos.

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t even know she was in trouble!” Malos snapped, stepping away from those expectant looks.

Rex frowned. “Ether net?”

“Ether net,” Mythra concurred.

“Oh,” Akhos pushed his glasses up, “ _lovely_. So we’re absolutely dealing with an inside job.”

"There you go jumping to conclusions again." Mythra pointed at Akhos. "Portable ether blocking tech is not limited to Mor Ardain. Tantal has it. Uraya's military has a less effective version. The black market has enough variety to make even you do a double take."

"Can we concentrate on getting my brat back first, and _then_ focus on who to kill?" Malos demanded. Paused, and planted his palm against his face. "I cannot believe I just sounded like _Rex_."

"Well that's not fair. I don't go killing people!" Rex protested. "But you do have a point. We need to get people and ourselves moving, and we need to get moving right now. I'll catch up with Pyra and Mòrag and get things organized."

"We should split up." Akhos held up a hand, forestalling Malos's protests. "We're both her Blades. Split up, and we have better odds of one of us getting into a range the net won't block."

"What happened to, _she's not my Driver,_ Akhos?" Mythra demanded. Her teasing was almost malicious -- almost _vicious_ enough for Malos to appreciate it. If this were any other time, Malos would applaud.

"Like you'd be cool, calm, and rational if Pyra's Core Crystal landed on you without the rest of her," Malos snapped.

Mythra opened her mouth; stopped. "Fair," she judged. Then she was ordering, "We'll take east Alba Cavanich. Akhos, you take Nia and Dromarch and take west. Let's move, boys!"

Given it was the best idea available, Malos bit his cheek to keep a protest pinned. Doing so would have been a lot harder if Mythra had tried to drag Malos along with anything more tangible than dint of personality.

* * *

 

Looking out over the rooftops, he couldn't shake the feeling this was all his fault.

Well, not _this_ , exactly. Whatever had happened had been coordinated and preplanned to enviable detail. But the situation as a whole was one he felt responsible for. Akhos wondered: Had they planned for kidnapping Millie tonight? Or had his distraction been a the catalyst? If he hadn't lost his composure; if he hadn't struck at Malos through his Driver; if he --

"Akhos. For the love of the Architect, get your head outta your arse, just this once, alright?"

Ah, Nia. Akhos hadn't been broken up by her betrayal: She had barely been there for six weeks and had not proven herself Torna. She hadn't had the deadly _fire_ of one of them. _She_ wasn't broken.

And now Akhos was projecting his insecurities onto others. _Lovely._

"Getting my head out of my ass is proving a tad difficult," Akhos snarked. Paused. And banged his palm against his forehead. "Malos's idiocy is catching, I swear."

"Idiocy isn't contagious, twit," Nia countered, ears twitching. A feline grin tugged at her lips. "Though from what I hear, Malos picked up a special kinda stupid when he died, yeah? Got all hearts and dandelions when he saw you back from the grave? Broke down in tears and confessed his undying feelings?"

Akhos rolled his eyes. "Architect, _no_. We're not _that_ cliché. Malos may have hugged me on account of mutual freaking out, but I can assure you, our relationship is entirely platonic."

"Two Blades with a Driver who's half dead, out in the middle of nosebleed country? Wouldn't have time to get up to anything -- ack!" Nia ducked a lightning arrow. Really, more a static electric bolt; no force behind it whatsoever. Fussily, she groomed her fur back into order. "Can't take a lick of teasing, can ya?"

"When this entire incident is my fault? No," Akhos confirmed.

...and felt like banging his head against a steel pipe. Architect _damn_ it. Feeling things slip from his control at an ever quickening pace should _not_ rattle him enough to blurt his insecurities out loud. Especially not to Nia of all people!

"What, because you had a blow up at Malos?" Nia was staring at Akhos's back, waiting for him to say _something_. Akhos could practically feel her judgmental glare. When Akhos did not respond, Nia huffed, "That's a load is bollicks and you know it. Soon as word of an Aegis with a soft target Driver got out, the idiots switches targets from Pyra to Malos."

"Hunters went after Pyra?" Akhos blinked. Given Rex's reputation, that was... odd.

"By the bucketful," Nia confirmed. "And that's _after_ the World Tree mess. Lost count before then. Surprise, surprise, you lot weren't the only ones who thought Rex wasn't worth his weight. Though at least you lot were honest about not liking him as a person. Far as I figure it, most of 'em were hired by elitist nutters who thought a common _salvager_ having a Blade, much less one of _the_ Blades, just wasn't posh n' proper."

"Classism at its finest," Akhos hummed.

"Don't try and change the subject," Nia barreled over Akhos's next breath, "I'm not done talkin'. None of this is your fault. It's _okay_ to be afraid."

"I'm not," Akhos started.

A surge of ether welled up behind him. Startled to silence, Akhos turned to face --

Nia. Not in her jumper. Pronounced fox ears flicked atop her head, bobbed hair lengthened into streaming ponytails fluttered in the wind, and an outfit so _bright_ in both color pallet and ether glow there was no mistaking it for a Blade's armor. At pride of place below her collar bone, shown off to the whole world, the red tainted Core Crystal of a Flesh Eater winked on Nia's bare skin.

"You're talkin' to a girl who knows a thing or two about fear," Nia spoke softly. Her voice ran soothingly like a fresh spring's depth. "You _are_ afraid, Akhos. You'd be an idiot not to be, 'nd we both know you're no idiot. It's alright to be afraid to loose the things and the people who matter the most. But ya can't let that fear keep holding you back."

She had her hands folded around his right hand. Healing water ether spun faint trails in the air between them.

"A daft fool who can make his way back from the dead is more powerful than any _idiot_ who thinks takin' a baby makes 'em strong."

Akhos stared at Nia's cream gloved hands.

"Did Patroka or I ever tell you how we became Flesh Eaters?" Akhos asked, voice softened by his stunned emotions. Why was he even asking?

Nia answered all the same, shaking her head negative.

"It was because I wasn't strong enough. Our Drivers are -- were," Akhos swallowed around a lump of history, "they were siblings who went into mercenary work together. A mission went... poorly." Architect help him -- how unfitting an understatement he made it sound! "Everything that could go wrong, did. My Driver was mortally wounded and he... He knew he wouldn't make it. But he wanted me to save his sister, no matter the cost. This was -- three hundred years ago. Judicium wasn't a myth then. Their Blades were a legend, though. Flesh Eaters were known to have amazing... amazing power."

Nia kept quiet. Akhos stared at her hands squeezing his own.

"I ate him."

How Akhos loathed those three words.

"By time I recovered enough to catch up to Patroka -- I did mention things had gone horribly wrong?"

"You did," Nia half said, half purred in offered sympathy.

"I got to them in time to see Patroka eat her Driver as well. Because her Driver wanted... wanted to save mine. Her brother."

Nia gave the story its due.

When Akhos felt he could breathe again without sobbing, Nia asked, "Indol found you?"

Akhos had to clear his throat before he could answer, "Within a month. Jin rescued us. Humans took _everything_ from us. Our Drivers. Our armor. They tried to take our lives. They are a constant reminder that _I am not strong_."

"You weren't strong _then_ ," Nia corrected sharply. "You're stronger now. You're not a pair of lone wolves on a subjugation mission. You're not Torna hell bent to take your loathing out on everythin' that breathes. You're Akhos, Blade of a babe who needs _you,_ and who's got three Ageises, twenty seasoned mercs, half a damn army, and a few middilin' Blades backin' you up. We'll find your Driver."

"And if we're too late?" Akhos asked. Too many fears to name coiled up inside him with poisoned barbs, tight enough to leave him breathless; unable to act.

"Then the whole lot of us land on the bastards hard enough all that'll be left of their dreams is a dead man's land," Nia swore.

Not their corpses. But Akhos supposed, for this? Death would be a mercy. And he had no mercy to spare.

"Hold that truth close to your heart. Hold it tight. You're not alone, Akhos." Nia squeezed his hand. "You're not alone."

Akhos's breath hitched. There was dampness on his cheeks that was -- right. Caused by Nia's ether manipulations. That was all. And it was Nia's ether manipulation which was draining the stiffness out of him; that was loosening the tight clench around his heart. It wasn't the reality of the situation impacting. It wasn't a... a _moving forward_ or something equally sappy. It wasn't --

A reaction...?!

Faint from distance the sensation was the opposite of frail. It had been three centuries since Akhos had felt anything like it, but he never had forgotten. It wasn't the same sensation as he'd felt with his Driver.

But it was unquestionably an ether resonance.

Nia squeezed his hand again. Deliberately, Akhos bid adue to rational thought, and let Nia's water smother the innumerable fears.

Gasping, eyes wide, unfocused, Akhos felt his whole self orient to his current Driver's resonance. The chain of fate forged with _this_ life magnetized and _yanked --_

"East," Akhos reported breathlessly. "My Driver’s alive. She's in the east."

"Let's go get her back," Nia ordered, smiling warmly.

Akhos squeezed Nia’s hand. And then they ran.

* * *

 

“Feel anything yet?”

“No.”

A minute, if that.

“Now?”

“ _No_.”

Two and a half steps down the rotting alley and Mythra started to ask, “What about –?”

“No!” Malos snapped. Whirling on her, he held his weapon tight, the weight if it the only thing keeping him from bludgeoning the light element Aegis immediately. “I feel _nothing_. Zip. Zilch. Zero. No connection what so ever. No resonance. No _pull_. Nothing! Stop. Freaking. Asking!”

Rather than shrinking back like a sane, rational lifeform, Mythra put her hands on her cocked hips. “You’ve got one of the strongest ether links with your Driver that I’ve ever seen. The only Blades with stronger links I know of are Haze, Pandoria, and Rex. Two out of three had half their Core Crystals in their respective Driver’s chest. The only way you shoudn’t be able to feel her at all would be if she was dead. And since Akhos confirmed she’s not --”

“What if Akhos is wrong? What if my brat is dead? What if--”

The sharp smack of Mythra’s hand impacting his cheek shut Malos up. Against a human, it would have been hard enough to bruise. Against Malos, the contact was loud and startling, not painful.

“Pyra may be able to put up with your pity fueled bullshit, but I can’t. Not any more,” Mythra growled.

Which was the one warning Malos got before Mythra surged forward, grabbed him by the back of his head, and _yanked_ Malos down so that his chest was in easy grabbing range. So that his _Core Crystal_ was close enough for Mythra to snap out her hand and _pull_ –!

The city blinked out of existence. In its place was an endless field of fluffed green grass, a lake filled with perfect blue water, a single hill, and a lone tree.

Shaking himself to his senses, right hand coming to rub at a blistering headache, Malos leaned away from the tree. Father _damn_ it… Forcibly being pulled into a network connection _hurt_.

“Please. I went easy on you,” Mythra’s voice scoffed. “Do you wanna know how it felt when you did this to Pyra? I’ve got her memories. I’d be _glad_ to share.”

“I said I was sorry,” Malos grumbled.

“ _That_ ’s bullshit,” Mythra called it.

Malos rolled his eyes. “I’m not sorry I did it to get back what was mine. I’m sorry I overdid it and tried to erase her memories.”

“You could have just asked, politely,” Mythra pointed out.

“Like you would have actually done it?” Malos demanded.

Mythra scoffed, “Hell no.” Her incorporeal voice gentled. “But Rex would have agreed to escort you, to escort all of Torna, to Elysium. He would have insisted we at least _try_ to get your Core Crystal repaired by Father. And if Father said no – well. Who knows. By time we made it to Father, Pyra and I might have been ready to say _yes_. _You_ might have been ready to _ask_. Of course, all of that’s hypothetical. You first would have needed to have the guts to ask. Let’s face it, Malos.”

The grass and lake and sky and world died and rotted and turned a sickening brown.

“You’re nothing but a coward.”

Malos bowed his head.

“No arguments? Really? No anger or denial? No _fighting back_?”

“No point.” Malos looked at the rotting tree root by his foot.

“No _point_?!” Mythra snapped.

“No point in arguing with the truth, Mythra.” Malos turned from the root to the dead sky. “I am a coward. All I did was follow what my Driver loaded into me. I didn’t _ask_. I didn’t _wonder_. I didn’t bother to figure out why anyone would try and save a world full of hatred. I didn’t _consider_ that anyone would give a _damn about me_. It took dying to finally give me a goddamn _clue_. I never was the endbringer. I was just… my own end.”

“Was being dead really so great you’d lay down and die _again_ without a fight?” Mythra’s voice snapped.

Malos closed his eyes. “Death’s the only thing I really know.”

The abruptness of arms around his torso, a shapely chest pressed against his abs, and a forehead pressed against his chest, drove the air out of Malos’s lungs. The arms wrapped around him squeezed. If this hand’t been a network generated false-reality, the grip would have been so tight, Malos would not have been able to breathe.

“Death and hate… They aren’t the only things you know,” Mythra said. Her words were clear despite her head being against his chest. Malos could feel Mythra take a deep breath before saying, almost too soft to hear, “You deleted Pyra’s memories of being with Rex because you were jealous.”

“No point in arguing with the truth,” Malos repeated himself.

“So then… Why don’t you make your own memories? Memories of being with a person who cares about you?” Mythra asked.

It was rhetorical. Malos answered anyway, “Because I don’t know how.”

“Bullshit,” Mythra called, squeezing Malos again. “You made plenty of memories with Jin and Torna.”

“Those don’t count,” Malos countered.

Mythra leaned back without letting go of Malos. Catching his eye, Mythra slowly raised her right eyebrow.

“They don’t!” Malos protested.

“Just because _at the time_ you didn’t know what emotions other than hate were does not mean those memories don’t count.” Mythra reached up. Malos flinched when Mythra rested her palm against his cheek. “Jin offered to take your hand because he was there and you needed help. You _both_ needed help. And just like Jin,” Mythra rested her finger over Malos’s lips to still his protest, “ _just_ like Jin, you reached out your hand to Millie because you were there and she needed you. Proof – that the time you spent with Torna. It _mattered_ , Malos. _You_ mattered.”

Malos swallowed. Those could _not_ be tears Mythra was wiping off his cheek.

“I can’t have a Driver. I’ll screw things up. I’ll fail,” _like Amalthus failed me,_ went unsaid but heartfelt.

“The thing about family is, when one of us fails, we all work together to patch things up. And family is harder to get rid of then you think, Malos.” Mythra promised.

_Family is harder to get rid of then you think._

The echo from the not-a-dream was enough to startle Malos. Mythra’s words hit, hard. Malos felt his chest tighten and his eyes burn. The world, intangible as it was, wavered and his body shook. His knees gave out, and only Mythra’s tight hold kept Malos from breaking something as he fell. Malos was absently aware of Mythra cradling his head against her heart; of running her fingers through his hair.

“You matter, Malos. You matter and people care about you. Pyra and I – _we_ care about you,” his big sister murmured soothingly. She murmured it again and again until Malos had no more tears to cry.

Malos… ugh. Malos _sniffled,_ somehow feeling simultaneously exhausted and invigorated. The same way his brat would after she had endured a good long cry.

His brat. _His_ brat. His… Driver.

“Amalthus was a black hole. He… sucked things in. All emotions, all… anything. Everything.”

Mythra nodded, understanding the concepts Malos didn’t have the words to express.

“Close your eyes. Empty your mind. Focus. Blade and Driver are part of a set. Focus on your ether frequency. Focus on how your ether resonates. Look for the resonating frequency. Open your eyes and _see_.”

Malos opened his eyes. Mythra had let go of his hair when she had dropped the network link, which was good and – not. Malos felt disconnected from reality and – not. Awake, but asleep. The world and all its sights and sounds was removed from him, but he could still see; still hear. He could see a dark room with a child curled into a lump. He could hear that same child too frightened to cry. He closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Malos still felt as though reality had taken a ninety degree turn. It felt like his balance was off. That every move he made was going to be _different_ – and Father, that was terrifying. Still, he… He owed it to _himself_ to move forward.

His ether link with his Driver blazed neon darkness into the world’s light.

“Got it?” Mythra asked. And not just about this.

“Got it,” Malos affirmed. “Let’s go get my Driver-brat _back_.”

Mythra interlaced her fingers and stretched her hands forward, popping her knuckles, ready for the fight. “Lead on, little brother.”

Malos grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole Keen Eye Skill thing is me taking liberties with game mechanics. A majority of Blades come with Field Skills right out of the Crystal, after all, and this was my attempt to explain it in story terms. Then Golden Country came out, and instead of having Mineralogy, Brighid had Botany. I think my theory still holds? Just that Brighid burnt a hole in parts of it...
> 
> (Then again, her Lockpicking Field Skill could transition into Keen Eye at some point, so maybe my theory isn't as crispy as it seems. *shrugs*)


	8. Breakout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One fresh baked slice of Papa Wolf Malos, coming up!
> 
> Warning: Non graphic depictions of canon typical violence.

The things she knew for sure was she was cold, and hungry, and had to go potty. She wanted the toy fluffy Red Lady had given her. She wanted applesauce. She wanted someone other than the mean men whose faces couldn't be seen to take her to the bathroom. The mean men would come in two at a time, pick her up with their cold hands, and carry her off to a bucket with a lid on it. If she didn't go potty in the bucket, they wouldn't go away. Then they would give her a bottle of water for her to suckle on. The bottle's top tasted like those pew-pew crackers.

One of the meanies was saying to the other, "Heard the Aegis is on the move already."

"Matter of time, that," another one said. She couldn't tell them apart.

"Thought we'd have more time than a pittance of four hours."

"I'm surprised we got more than two. That Aegis..."

"Once we have him settled with the Senator, the Emperor will have to see. Mor Ardain must resume expansion."

"Yes. It's the only way to secure our future."

"You think the Titans might still be alive in some way? There's no sign of continuing rot, is what I mean."

"Not alive, really. There's an increased ether flow detectable, but it circulated through the whole damn landmass."

"That _land_ ain't no miracle. It's a blasphemy."

"True --"

There was a very big, very loud, teeth shaking _boom_. The mean men all screamed. She closed her eyes and smiled. Big and Ack were here to take her home.

The door opened.

* * *

 

The pipe factory or base or whatever this had been was stuffed with assorted forms of weaponry in various stages of completion. Some of it was old model single pilot Titan cannons and even older model autonomous air support. Then there were things that looked like they were trying too hard to be Titans themselves.

Akhos slipped behind a plated wall, letting the cover take the weapon's fire. Arrow notched he dipped back out and fired for the exposed sparking wires. The resulting explosion was sparkly, but low on force. The Titan-less tank collapsed onto its belly. Akhos shot it again to be certain it was well fried, then targeted the aerial nuisances.

Water ether roared out from Dromarch in a covering wave. Under that cover, Nia and Dromarch himself joined Akhos. Nia flexed her grip on Dromarch's chakras. What a sight she must make to the humans: A Blade using a different Blade's weapons.

"This feels way too easy," Nia pointed out. She wasn't even the faintest bit winded.

Dromarch rumbled, "It feels rather like we're being used for their spring cleaning."

Akhos adjusted his glasses before peaking out from cover. "It does at that," he concurred. Prototypes and antiques these might all be, they _did_ have a significant numbers advantage. There were thirty heading for their current cover, and several times more zoning in on them.

 _Tripping the alarm had seemed like such a good idea_ , Akhos mused.

Not the silent alarm; no, that Akhos had recognized, given it was a variant of the tech the Monoceros used. The alarm Akhos and company had deliberately tripped was the one that made quite a bit of noise. They weren't _that_ far out from the capital. Someone would see, raise the Flamebringer, and reinforcements would be inevitable. What Akhos had miscalculated were the numbers.

Light fell from the heavens.

The numbers Akhos had been fretting about were cleaved by a factor of three.

"It's so nice to see that used on someone else for a change," Akhos chuckled.

Nia was not amused. "Mythra doesn't call down Siren unless there ain't a way around it."

"Mmm. Wondering what could outgun an Aegis?" Akhos inquired.

"Perhaps we should make haste," Dromarch suggested.

Nia and Akhos exchanged agreeing nods. As one, they pulled out from cover. Nia switched both chakras to one hand, drew her weapon, and slashed out, down, along the ground. Water slid out in three spikes to impale still twitching enemies. Following her example, Akhos loosed as many arrows as he dared – water and electricity being the mix it was – into as many potential threats as could be targeted. Dromarch followed as their rear guard, calling out threats as he saw them.

Time did funny things on battlefields. The distance from where they'd started to _here_ couldn't have been longer than two Titan pedes. Five minutes, at most. And yet it felt like it had taken an hour to cross.

Then again, _here_ looked like a battlefield after days under siege.

"Oh my," Dromarch opined.

"Bloody 'ell," Nia concurred. "Whot they do, turn breakin' 'em into a competition?"

Akhos pushed up his glasses. "I wouldn't put it past them."

A muted boom came from what had been a dog pile of those automated fliers. Dark ether licked across holes in wings, metal bodies – at least one Titan screamed before dying, fast – and then the darkness hit critical mass, sending shrapnel exploding in a death blossom.

Malos stood in the explosion's epicenter. Dark ether seeped off him in a palpable wave. Rolling his shoulders, Malos hefted his weapon so that it rested against his shoulder, and looked at all and sundry with an expression of being all out of shits to give _._ Half a step behind him, Mythra was getting to her feet. From the way Nia gulped, Akhos was reading her expression correctly: Hot, heady _furry_.

"Seriously?" Mythra shouted towards no where in particular. She was facing the area's largest structure; probably wanted the designers of this facade to be paying attention.

"Suicide run. Means they're desperate," Malos pointed out.

"Kinda figured that, genius," Mythra snarled. Her sword blazed through the air, cutting a sharp arc of light – that targeted another hodgepodge batch of prototypes and outdated weaponry. Once more light fell from the heavens.

Malos breathed deeply, closing his eyes. Breathing out, he reported, "They're bringing her to us."

One of the robotic whatevers wasn't quite as fried as it looked. It twitched; rose, behind both Mythra and Malos.

An electric bolt knocked its equivalent of a head off in the same second Malos turned to decapitate it. Surprise turned to delight; Malos looked towards them and laughed.  "A little late to the party, Akhos!"

"Seems fitting, given we're the extras on this stage," Akhos hummed, adjusting his glasses. A glance over his shoulder to check --

Nia riding on Dromarch's back beat Akhos to the punch. The white beast Blade bound over the wreckage with agility a humanoid couldn't match. Grinning at the blatant showmanship, Akhos made haste towards the lot of them.

"I take it stealth wasn't an option, then?" Nia demanded.

"They ambushed us!" Mythra defended herself. "With _that_!"

Akhos looked at where Mythra was pointing with her weapon's tip, and blanched. "Is that a...?"

"It _was_ a Judiciam Titan weapon," Malos confirmed. From the wisps of darkness tickling the remains of ... toes? Well. Suffice to say, Malos had a reason to look smugly satisfied. "They started rolling them out right before their Titan bought it. They were meant to be able to take me."

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Dromarch voiced the group consensus: "Oh my."

"They were getting ready for a war," Nia murmured, shocked eyes taking in the battlefield. "They _are_ gettin' ready for a war...!"

"Domestic or foreign," Akhos mused.

"Does it matter?" Malos demanded.

"To you? No, given you plan to wreck them on general principle, of which I wholly agree. They took our Driver. They _pay,_ " Akhos affirmed. "To the Flamebringer? It's a too relevant question."

"So we'll leave these asshats alive for her. Easy enough." Loosening his shoulders, Malos advanced with his trademark cocky swagger.

"Easy. Right. Like takin' down a whole fortress is gonna be easy." Nia rolled her eyes but urged Dromarch to follow after.

"We do not intend to take it down by ourselves, my lady," Dromarch noted.

Malos and Mythra scoffed. Simultaneously.

"We lesser Blades do not, I should say," Dromarch amended amicably.

A child's achingly familiar scream cut the air – and held them all from taking one step more.

Akhos felt his heart clench. This entire scene was just so… so _cliché_. The villain of this chapter appeared upon the uppermost battlements of the largest structure in the area. The man had a thin brown mustache he twirled in gloved hands, was portly in stature, and dressed up in one of the _most_ ridiculous outfits Akhos had seen outside a theatrical reenactment of the Aegis War. The man’s _hat_ looked nothing so much like an overly risen, overly crisped Gormotti bun. His petticoat and vest were equally crisp, and gaudily outlined in gold. A cyclops Blade of gold armor had a deactivated ether ax in its left hand –

And in his right hand, he was holding Millie at arm’s length, well over the battlement’s edge.

_We’re ten pedes down from her, five pedes across… Damn it!_

They were too far to do anything other than watch.

“I believe _this_ is what you’re looking for?” The man gestured with a flourish to Millie as though she were some exotic sweet to be displayed.

Millie screamed her frustrations and fear, kicking with all the force she could muster. It wasn’t much…. But it was enough to make Akhos smile, pushing his glasses back into place. Stubborn as her Blade, thank the Architect.

Then the fabric of her nightgown ripped, sending her jerking into a fall, and Akhos’s heart leapt to his throat. Millie’s screams took on a desperate note.

“ _Don’t move!_ ” Malos roared.

Shock of shocks, Millie clamped her hands to her mouth, huddled up into a tight a ball as possible given the circumstances, and held deathly still.

“So _that’s_ how you shut it up!” The villain snorted a laugh. “If I’d ah known that, I would ‘ve slapped --”

Ether focused into a bolt of darkness typed energy singed the man’s hat right off his balding head.

“Touch my brat, and I will _end_ you,” Malos snarled, lowering his still glowing sword. Akhos hadn’t even seen him move. Though to be fair to himself, Akhos was a _bit_ distracted. Malos loomed forward a single step. “You put her down. On the ground. _Slowly_. And I will _consider_ not dissolving this place into base ether particles around your ears.”

The villain quit flailing around trying to keep his hat from dissolving. Salvaging what passed for his honor, the villain stamped to attention. "No, Aegis, I don't think you will. I think you will do precisely as I say." The villain exaggerated cocking his hip and putting his free hand upon it. The other hand was held out so that what it was holding was overtly visible: A steam gun. Wonderful. "First,” flounced the villain, “you'll enter, alone. Second, you'll hand over your weapon. Third, you'll agree to sever your connections with _this_ uncouth thing. Fourth, you'll make as your _true_ Driver--"

Nia pointed and hissed, "Now I remember you! You're that fart of an excuse for a console from Gormott! You thought _Prya_ would jump ship from Rex to you if you just bantered on about the superiority of the Empire!"

The villain pranced about. "I am perfectly worthy of being the Aegis's Driver!" Realizing his audience, the villain hastily back-peddled, "Of the two-bit _false_ Aegis, that is. I am certainly not man enough to be the _true_ Aegis's Driver. I have no illusions about that."

Nia scoffed under her breath an unflattering but viciously accurate assessment of the man.

"No. For the true Aegis – for Malos, once Blade of the Praetor himself! – there is only one man worthy. I am certain, Aegis, once you meet that man, you will understand why all this is necessary."

Malos snarled, "The only thing that's going to happen when I meet this _man_ , is I'm going to knock him unconscious, hand him over to the Special Inquisitor, and _watch_ as she takes him _apart_ piece by sniveling piece."

The villain was indeed as stupid as he looked: He ignored the venom of Malos's words. Worse. He disregarded them with a scoff and wave of his hand.

"You'll do no such thing. Remember, we hold all the cards." He presses the gun's barrel against Millie's cheek. "I dunno why you have such a devotion for this bit of trash. But no matter. For the glory of Mor Ardain needs must and all that."

"If you hurt her," Mythra warned, stepping beside Malos, "Malos will be the _least_ of your problems."

"You think you scare me, welp?" decried the villain.

Akhos, Nia, and Dromarch all prudently took a step _away_ from the literally radiantly furious light Aegis. Malos cocked his head and grinned, in a way that even the villain recognized as a blatant threat.

"You're even dumber than I though," Malos chuckled darkly.

"I --!"

"Enough, if you please, Dughall."

Ah. And now they came to the inevitable plot twist. The villain stepping aside to reveal the true master of the wicked plot. A real classic.

But the man who stepped forward was as nondescript as the ground floor door he used. His hair was gray with age, matching the grey of his shirt and silver hued grey of his dress coat and formal pants. Tasteful glints of gold along shoulders and cuffs spoke of high status but not obnoxious grandiosity. He pulled off his flat topped hat, and bowed with a politeness that was at odds with the wreckage surrounding them.

Raising from his bow, he returned his hat to his head. When he spoke, his voice was charming and disarming: "I must ask you forgive my colleagues' over exuberance. They have been planning this for some time. The opportunity to speak with you, face to face, caused them to jump the mark."

Oh, Architect. A blue-blood _politician_. Just what this farce was missing.

"Over exuberance, hell," Malos snarled. Sighing, Malos bounced his sword against his shoulder. "You hand over my brat now, you get five minutes of my time."

"That, I fear, I cannot do. There are things which must be done to secure the safety of the country I love."

Oh, even _better_. A politician who was sincere in their beliefs was all the more dangerous than one who was in it for fame and fortune. Absently, Akhos wondered what their story was – and dismissed the thought. The man's story was irrelevant to what he had done. And Malos wasn't the only one out of shits to give.

"Let me cut to the chase." Akhos walked ahead of Malos and Mythra, putting on his full bombastic charm. "You want to cut out the extras. All the loose ends and unknowns standing between you and the ambitious future you dream of – they need to be tied up. You've already tossed out one Aegis knowing her Driver's loyalties. But we," Akhos gestured to include Malos, "we're unknowns. And you just hate that, hum?"

"The Aegis is receiving aid and comfort from the current regime," said the mastermind.

"And you need to know if that makes us foe, or can you make us friend." Akhos pushed his glasses up. "Here's a clue. Kidnapping our Driver sealed your fate."

The mastermind sighed. "I had hoped to avoid further violence."

Yes, yes he really had. And his next words were going to be --

"I cannot allow such power to fall into the hands of madmen."

Akhos fired.

The quick shot bolt struck true, hitting the meat of the man's right forearm. Electricity shocked the elder to the point he convulsed as he hit the ground. Dromarch with Nia on his back had started moving the moment the old man had screamed. Mythra and Malos were moving once he hit the ground.

"Release the Beast you fools!" the opulent villain roared. To his Blade he ordered, " _Throw_ that trash away!"

The Blade wound up a tighter grip on Millie's nightgown. Reared it's arm back. And with far too much force, threw the toddler forward, into the empty air.

Watching, Akhos knew there was no way on Alrest he could rescue her. His brain absently acknowledged the sound of hefty iron wrought gates sliding open; the feel of ether pressure as attacks were charged. His heart was pounding in his ears. The words, _your stronger now_ , drowned out the world. Stronger... but never strong enough.

Malos roared.

Or it might have been the massive black tentacle _thing_ that smacked into Akhos's chest and sent him flying. At this point, as all light in the world blinked out, Akhos couldn't be bothered to care.

* * *

 

They watch from a place that is nowhere and everywhere. They see as Akhos make his choice – the right choice, for all the consequences are wrong. That man cannot be allowed to leave, or all that had transpired would be repeated again – and they see the child thrown into the air. They watch as Malos's fear takes form as an all consuming cloud of darkness. They watch as a monster of Moyrtha keeps the group occupied, Malos included. It is the largest such monster yet seen.

"What are their odds?" he asks the one besides him.

"They will win."

"That's not what I mean."

His fellow watcher sighs. "The victory will be Pyrrhic."

He nods. They watch as Malos's fear turns to desperation. It has been less than twenty seconds and gravity has hold of the child.

He hears Malos. The thoughts are inarticulate and jumbled. The gist is clear enough: _Please, Father, I'm not strong enough. I can't do this alone. I need help! I need --_

"I'm going."

That is all he need say, for then there is light.

* * *

 

Blue.

The darkness of his ether fluctuated against the brilliance of Mythra's light; ebbed and surged in time with Nia and Dromarch's dual tide. Against the blinding brightness of the blue, Malos's darkness parted, leaving the core of blue untouched.

Malos held the floating blue diamond with a shaking hand.

"Jin...?"

The Core's glow grew brighter. Blisteringly, blindingly brighter. Ice floated in-between Malos's darkness making it look like the starry night sky.

 _You don't want me as a Driver,_ Malos thought, a little bit desperately.

A glittering shrug of ice in his mind. Malos tightened his grip on the Core Crystal. And before he could think about it further, turned, targeted his brat – and threw.

_Father, please, let this work!_

His brat – caught would be a lie. _Impacted_ was accurate. It was enough.

The blue surged. Ice wrapped a steel tight grip around his brat, blanketing her in blue safety. White surged next taking form and life. A silhouette made familiar from centuries of time scooped his brat close. Malos missed their landing on account of the tentacles breaking through his defenses. But even as pain forced him to pay attention, there was no doubt. Jin had his brat.

They'd won.

* * *

 

Breathing was a shock. Scents hit. Sound impacted as hard as his landing. The frail life in his arms wriggled. The ether link echoed her unsure and frightened and desperate emotions.

"You're safe now."

Architect. Even his own _voice_ sounded foreign. The world around him was electric with life; with the immediacy of _now_. The absolute opposite of those last moments before death had taken him for tea and crumpets.

...having a child for a Driver again was interesting. Had Millie even had a tea party yet? Lora had adored them.

Millie was trying to say something. The words caught in her throat, turning her voice into a gurgle.

"Malos?" Jin guessed. A fierce affirmative. She fought to force another word. "Akhos?" A second sharp affirmative, followed by the girl grabbing at the hard metal of his outfit. "You want to help them?"

A sharp, _"Mmm!_ "

"Help them by letting me help you."

It was not that the concept was too complex; Jin could feel her emotions twist with understanding through the ether link. Millie was simply too scared to let either Malos or Akhos far from her sight.

"Once I know you're safe, I will come back for them. I swear." Jin poured all of his sincerity into the ether link.

Conflicted was the softest term for Millie's emotions. But she did --

No real warning. No real _time_. A pressure in the ether that set the hairs on the back of his neck burning. Grabbing Millie in his arms, cautious of her head and neck, Jin jumped right.

A blistering light of red slashed across the ground where they'd stood. For the split second it was visible, the light reminded Jin of Siren's targeting beam. Forewarned by the memory, Jin wrapped them in a protective cone of absolute zero ice.

The beam reached across a wasteland and played up the side of a city-bound factory without loosing any strength. The following explosion of ether cleaved the heavens and sundered the earth. The ice held long enough to help them survive being launched before it evaporated in the heat.

Landing this time was going to be a touch more difficult due to the wind turbulence. And then -- not.

"Hello there!" cawed a bird humanoid Blade with resplendent red plumage. Their wings dipped as they flew next to Jin's flight path, such as it was. "The name's Roc. Need a lift down?"

"Jin. Thank you. And yes," Jin answered.

The gales around them solidified into a feather soft push. The landing on solid rock some two Titan peds from where they had jumped felt like stepping off a staircase. This Blade was -- quite skilled with their element.

"There we are, safe and sound. Well, sound at least." Roc gave an avian smirk, head tipping towards where monster met Aegis. "No one is going to be safe until that's sorted. Never fear. My Driver isn't far off now with additional firepower."

"Your Driver?" Jin asked.

"Oh, you'll know him when you see him." Roc leaned forward to get a clearer look at Millie. The girl was having none of their scrutiny: She gripped Jin's armor and hid in his arms, sneaking a glare out under her elbow. Roc chuckled, "No doubt, you're Millie. Look for the most stubborn toddler in Alrest, my Driver said. Can't miss her. She'll chew on those kidnappers' ankles if they give her the least opportunity."

Embarrassment snuck around fear through the ether link.

Roc cawed with laughter. "Oh, you are a treat!"

Jin made a mental note to go over escape and evade tactics. Chewing on ankles wasn't bad, but it was risky. There was no telling where the target had been for starters.

 _Later_ , Jin firmly reminded himself. The rampaging monster bigger than the average house had to be dealt with first.

"I need to get her clear," Jin stated the obvious.

"Clear 's a tad relative," Roc pointed out. "Just look what it did to that factory yonder. From the view I had, it looked like that ranged weapon could hit Hardhaigh Palace if it wanted to. If another shot gets off, no place 'll survive it."

What Roc had identified as a factory had become an indistinct pile of smoldering molten metal. Between the rapidly cooling mountain and where Jin stood was a straight line of carbonized ash. Breathing in, Jin could taste the faint bitter crackle of ozone. The bird Blade was right: Even if Jin started running now, no place would survive that blast. The safest thing for Millie -- for all of them -- was to end this swiftly and decisively. By that same token, Jin could not fight with his arms full of toddler.

Said toddler was wriggling in a desperate attempt to slip free.

"What is it?" Jin asked of her.

Millie pointed behind Jin. Turning, Jin --

Adjusted his grip and broke into a run. Behind him, Roc cawed alarm. Then they caught sight of what was wrong, and swooped after Jin.

Swinging Millie to her feet, Jin ordered, "Do not let go of this," and pressed the hem of his jacket into her grip. Swallowing a wail Millie complied, gripping cloth tight enough her fingers turned a complimentary shade of white. Thus assured, Jin turned his attention to the downed Blade. Architect, Akhos was a sight...

Triage. Still breathing. Core Crystal intact and undamaged. All four limbs accounted for. Running his fingers swiftly along exposed skin, Jin guessed the shattered armor had done its job. One cracked rib, no cracks in his skull, no visible signs of internal hemorrhaging. No need for the shattered armor to remain--

Oh.

Feeling a faint smile tug his lips, Jin settled as much of the armor back into place as possible. Crackles of electricity jumped from shattered piece to shattered piece, drawing them together, mending armor and body. Where too much was missing, electric ether condensed to form new armor.

A Blade's clothing was their armor. If that armor were lost, a Blade could remake it. The process was similar to how they could remake a shattered weapon crystal.

Indol had stolen Akhos's armor centuries ago. He'd never made a new set, preferring the Torna armor Jin had found him. And it looked like that found armor -- _was_ Akhos's armor. Then again... had there ever been a doubt that Akhos was a Blade of Torna?

Jin rested his left hand on Millie's shoulder. "Akhos will be alright."

The little one stumbled closer with uncoordinated grace. Only Jin's hand kept her from falling on Akhos in a hug.

"Thought he was a," Roc looked at Millie; substituted his next words with, "you-know-what."

Jin touched his own Core Crystal with his right hand. It felt colder than he remembered. "I think we both were."

A startled caw and shocked back-wing. "My Driver said things had gotten topsy-turvey with Malos back. Neglected to mention how much!"

That was a fair assessment, yes. First... The immediate threat needed to be dealt with. _Then_ Jin could sit down and have a controlled freak out over being alive again.

"Here's as much good cover as anywhere else," Roc noted.

Out in the middle of an open field with maybe a tree to duck behind --

The glimpse of gray tentacle out the corner of his eye. Sword at guard, Jin turned -- and got a pretty good view of a cliff being reduced to a mole hill. Jin swallowed. In light of that, out in the open was as good a cover as anywhere, yes.

"I can't leave them unguarded."

"I'm good in a scrap -- but I know my limits without my Driver. You'll do more help on the field than I. Go. I'll guard them. Just get that thing aiming away from this direction, hum?" As he spoke, Roc threw his dual scythe-like weapons into the ground. Wind ether curved around from blade to blade, forming a cushion against the worst of the fight.

"Thank you." Jin turned his focus to Millie. "Hold on to Akhos. I'm going to help Malos."

The little one transferred her grip from Jin's coat to Akhos's hand without further prompting. Glaring fiercely, Millie looked Jin in the eye. It was as close to a, _You damn well better help him!_ as a toddler could get.

Jin ruffled the child’s hair. A final look to Roc, who returned Jin’s glare with a nod, and then Jin headed for the fight. He centered himself, stilling his breath. The bare bones of plan settled: Get in close. Get to Malos. Coordinate strikes to force the creature to turn towards the ocean, preferably killing it in the process. For this moment, wait… Wait…

The opening presented itself. Jin did not hesitate to take it.

* * *

 

Ice slapped a tentacle down about – oh _far_ too close. Hissing, Nia jumped back, Dromarch’s hasty ether shield keeping the worst debris from causing damage. She had just enough tentacle free moments to watch an impossible figure show off with a fancy somersault topped off by a tuck-and-slice maneuver that cut off three of the far-too-bloody-many tentacles. Skipping over an intact one, Nia tossed Dromarch his chakras so he could Wild Roar them some cover, switched to her scimitar to slice water across an immediate threat, ducked, wove –

Mythra’s back met hers. “Holding up?” Mythra demanded.

“For now, yah,” Nia affirmed. “You?”

“Ask me again in twenty minutes.”

Bloody wonderful. Mythra was getting to the end of her rope. Gritting her teeth, Nia focused on keeping the wriggly things off Mythra’s back. Malos –

Ice ripped into a loosely wriggling mass of detached tentacles, freezing it to absolute zero and shattering it before they could congeal into… Into whatever the blue hells those doggy shaped things were. Dealing with a thing that looked like it had crawled right out of Morytha was one thing. Some of the crazy things down there had been smart enough to call for reinforcements. This thing was _making_ its own reinforcements.

“Welcome to the party, Jin!” Malos cackled. The darkness element Aegis slashed out another one of those bizarre dark domes that made the already present ether twist around them into shields. It also – oh, Nia wanted to be sick – _ate_ some of the detached tentacles.

“Akhos is down. Millie is with him. Roc is babysitting.”

“What do you mean, _Akhos is down?!_ ” Malos demanded. And it must have been the fatigue of the battle starting to affect her, because Nia could have sworn Malos sounded genuinely concerned.

 _Survive this. Figure out the new Malos mystery later_.

“Roc’s good people. They’ll be fine.” Mythra’s sword flared. “Siren firing in twenty seconds!”

“Turn it to face the ocean,” ordered Mr. Frozen Impossibility. “The distance weapon can hit Alba Cavanich.”

“Adjusting targeting,” Mythra acknowledged.

The promised twenty seconds couldn’t tick past fast enough. As Dromarch launched another Wild Roar, Nia demanded, “Do we got any plans on how to kill this thing?”

“ _rrrrRRRAAAAWWWWWRRRR!!!_ ”

...Architect bless ‘im. How did Rex turn his damned awful yell into an Aegis approved choir?

Pyra’s flames swept a circle of breathing room around them. Mythra’s Siren summoned ether arrows fell from the heavens at an angle. A sword of green cut through the air in a rolling slash that dropped Rex right into the center of their little get-together. The monster warbled a bass roar of pain, flinching away from the impacts; turning towards the water.

“Nia, Dromarch, Mythra, you all alright?” Rex demanded, looking over his shoulder at them.

“Right as rain,” Nia joked, breathing hard.

“We have been better,” Dromarch spoke up.

Blue flames charged in like the evening tide. The _skreet_ s of the monster’s reinforcements being reduced to ash grated on Nia’s ears like nobody’s business. Fast as the screams started, they stopped. Into the lull stepped the Flamebringer in full form, her Blade to her right and Pyra on her left advancing straight to Rex.

Mòrag’s voice was as close to a snarl as Nia had ever heard: “I have many questions for these traitors.”

“You may be forced to ask their corpses,” Brighid noted with all the emotion of a Tantal winter storm in her voice.

“Some will have survived. Their lot always do. To business.” Mòrag jutted her chin towards the recovering monster. “I presume there is a plan to deal with this atrocity?”

“Keep it pointed at the ocean and keep hitting it real hard until it keels over,” Mythra answered.

“Is there a better plan?” Brighid demanded.

“I just got here myself! Give me a few!” Rex requested, flexing his grip on Pyra’s sword. He paused as he caught sight of the glitter of white that had decided to join up. “’ello there, Jin! You or Malos got any ideas?”

“What, no back from the dead comments?” Malos snarked. To Jin he added, “And I’m still _waiting_ for an explanation on _Akhos is down_.”

“Well, I was gonna go for n _ice_ to see you again, but now’s hardly the time, is it?” Rex quipped.

Nia groaned. “Even the monster felt that one, Rex.”

Ice and fire slashed out in opposite directions. “I doubt it. It regenerates too quickly,” Jin noted.

“Was that a joke?” Rex asked, laughing even as he helped Pyra fry tentacles.

“A joke would require having a sense of humor,” Brighid deadpanned through a swirl of flames.

“Ha. Ha. What a bunch of jokers,” Malos grumbled. A slash and stab of darkness, and Nia was breathing a thank you to the last person she’d ever expect. Malos acknowledged with a nod, yanking his weapon from the disintegrating corpse. To the group he said, “But you’ve got a point. This thing regenerates too damn quickly. We need to smash its Core.”

“How? Get up on its chest? We’d be ripped to shreds!” Pyra protested in-between holding a shield of ether and fire against a detached tentacle.

“Is the Core on its chest?” Malos demanded. For the moment, Nia had her back to him – but from the sound of it, she was probably better off not knowing _how_ some of these blighters met their end. “Hold it… Mythra! Can Siren get a lock on the largest ether signature that isn’t us?”

“Too much – guh!” Mythra shoved against a mini-monster until Jin froze it off. A thanks to Jin, then Mythra completed her answer: “There’s too much interference. Siren say she’d need an additional five minutes to --”

Darkness swept over them all. Two sources of darkness. One source was from the monster lifting its sizable foot to step on them. The other was from Malos’s weapon. Yelps echoed around the group as the ether in the atmosphere was sucked down, down into the black, down into the sword’s blade. There was a second where the whole world seemed to hold its breath. And then an ear cracking _ka-boom_ as the excess energy was discharged in a blast of concentrated ether that had the monster reeling. The force of it sent Malos staggering back as well.

“Oh,” Mythra said into the sudden quiet. “That worked.”

“Then _shoot the damn thing_ ,” Malos requested.

Another bolt of ether descended from the heavens. Difference was, this one was big as Gramps.

Nia’s last thought was, _My, the stars look pretty._


	9. Of Little Import

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Pyra invents the Popsicle.

The explosion was visible from Anangham docks. At that distance, much of the explosion’s bite was not felt – but could indeed be inferred. The wind jumped up in speed; the land trembled. The water around him shook like a bowl of Urayan jellies. From his dock, Azurda gave the brilliant white, red, and gold light a leery gaze. That boy of his certainly had a knack for finding trouble.

Decided, Azurda pushed himself back from dock. The second he had the wing room was the second he would be taking flight.

* * *

 

Aegaeon supported him.

Once more, Niall wondered at his own actions. Ordering the Capital Division to mobilize had been without question. His own instance on coming was a logical fallacy at best. But he… Niall _had_ to see. His dear sister had been in the heart of too many near death conflicts of late. Barely a year since the World Tree had met its end, and Niall still had nightmares: The city streets covered in corpses, looking up into the sky, seeing his sister’s body falling, falling, falling…

But when Niall had insisted on coming with the troops to reinforce the Flamebringer, Aegaeon had supported him. The Water Blade had put one hand on Niall’s shoulder, had given the obstinate Field Marshal a look befitting an ice Blade, and shoved aside the resistance Niall had faced without lifting a hand.

Aegaeon was at his side as Niall stared at Mor Ardain sweeping beneath them. This, the fastest ship in his personal fleet, still felt too slow. The breath caught in his throat as brown soil jerked into carbon ash for a count of six before cutting back to brown. Architect preserve them…

“A squad was detailed to investigate the structures affected by the blast,” Aegaeon softly promised.

“Good,” Niall replied. Looking across scorched devastation, he found himself at a loss. What words he could find felt wholly inadequate: “This is… terrible.”

“The Special Inquisitor will not stop until they are brought to justice, Your Majesty,” Aegaeon promised.

Niall kept his thoughts of, _That’s what worries me most_ , behind features training held mask still. His sister’s duty was to be his shield. But what duty could Niall carry for her? The general running of Mor Ardain was a task, this was true. Knowing his sister braved such forces that could cause _this_ , though… It solidified the reality in Niall’s mind that Mòrag should have ruled. She gave so much of herself to him, to the Empire… He feared for his sister.

A flash of red registered and Niall ordered, “Hold the transport!”

Aegaeon passed his order to the transport’s driver before asking, “Your Majesty?”

The transport turned, and Niall saw it again. A flash of red that wasn’t part of Mor Ardain’s soil. Pointing, he ordered, “Your eyes are clearer than mine, Aegaeon.”

Looking out across the soil, Aegaeon squinted. Then sucked in a sharp breath. “Wounded below!”

“Land at once!” Niall ordered.

The solider at the helm balked, “That’s hardly safe!”

So that was the game the Field Marshal wished to play? Follow the Emperior’s orders in letter but not in spirit so as to appease the child upon the throne? So be it. Steeling himself, Niall wrapped instructions into a name: “Aegaoen.”

“As you will, Your Majesty.”

Oh _Architect_. How did Mòrag make jumping from such heights look so blasted easy? If it weren’t for Aegaeon’s tight hold around his middle, Niall would have broken something. Several somethings.

“Might I recommend Your Majesty reconsider taking a Blade from the armory for such purposes as this?” Aegaeon politely requested.

“I am no Driver, Aegaeon,” Niall repeated. Mor Ardain support him, his knees were shaking. Proof enough right there he was unfit to hold a Blade in his hands.

“Facing danger can be learned, Your Highness. And it would grant the Special Inquisitor peace to know you take your safety seriously. I cannot be with you at all times, though we all wish otherwise.”

True words. True indeed. The thought of Mòrag being worried tugged upon his heart. Stable, now, Niall focused to the task at hand. “I fear I am a touch disoriented.”

Aegaeon took a moment to confirm. “Ahead, Your Majesty.”

And not far, thankfully. Barely two pedes. As they approached, the red form resolved itself into a mass of limbs and feathers. Aegaeon’s steps faltered before increasing with haste.

“Roc!” Aegaeon called.

Roc… Was that not the name of one of Rex’s Blades? A straight-forward avian. Yes… Niall recalled that the Blade’s demeanor had been a breath of fresh air. They’d also proposed some of the most outlandish security adjustments Niall had ever seen. Mad enough that the Field Marshal had nearly gone purple in the face. Tinsel, glitter, and glue, if Niall recalled.

“I’m… fine...” The bird sounded anything but. “Core ‘s… intact… The… others…?”

“Others?” Niall repeated. Aegaeon pressed, “What happened?”

“Big… bad… boom. Then a… _lot_ of… of little booms...” Roc cawed weakly.

“There!” Niall pointed. His feet went into motion before his mind could suggest hesitating. The lump might have been something tossed up by the explosion; shrapnel or debris. As he got closer, Niall could see… the lump was shaped like a person, and like Roc, was worse for wear. Whomever they were, they were curled protectively around –

The transport had caught back up. One of the men aboard shouted over the transport’s displacement, “Emperor!”

Niall signaled the transport to land. Cupping his hands, he yelled as loud as he could, “Evacuate the wounded to Hardhaigh Palace immediately! Have my personal physician meet us at port!”

“Y-Yes, sire!”

Assured his orders would be followed _this_ time, Niall turned to the wounded. He dared not rest his hand on the person’s shoulder least even that little a touch cause additional damage. And he most certainly did not reach for the infant in the person’s grip. This close, Niall could see the golden glow of and ether link surrounding them both; its light was strongest around the child.

“Hold tight, the both of you. I give you my word you shall have all the aid I can grant.”

The larger person opened their eye a crack. Faintly, Niall heard a groan, and then their eye closed. But the light of the ether link did not dim.

“Sire!”

Niall stood aside for the solders with the stretcher. “With all haste,” Niall urged.

“Sir!”

Watching them for another moment, Niall turned towards where the explosion had been sighted. Aegaeon came to stand besides him. The Blade reported, “The transport will be leaving a compliment of five men so that the pilot can make full time.”

“Good.” Above there was a roar of wings. Looking, Niall made out the sight of that Titan friend of his sister’s making all haste for the explosions center. Nodding, Niall turned once more to Aegaeon. “Take me to the Special Inquisitor.”

Aegaeon held his sword before his chest in salute. With quick motions of his hand, Aegaeon had the men in diamond formation around Niall with himself as the diamond’s point. And where Aegaeon led, Niall followed.

* * *

 

Blinking the darkness from his eyes, Rex took stock. All limbs present; his head was ringing like a salvage scanner hit pay-dirt; he was flat on his back but didn’t feel hurt. Pyra’s body was splayed on top of him; she was breathing, thank the Architect. There was a weight pinning his legs down. From the feel and _feel_ of it, that was Mythra. Turning his head he saw a big lump of blue streaked white: Dromarch. And right under his paws was Nia, who had a nasty black and blue bruise along her neck and cheek. Whatever had done _that_ probably would of killed her if Nia hadn’t been a Flesh Eater.

Rex tried to sit up. The double weight of Pyra and Mythra kept him from moving. Giving that up as a lost cause for now, Rex tried to call out, “Mòrag? Brighid? Jin? Malos? Anybody?”

A rough cough followed by a, “Here.”

Jin. Sounded about as out of it as Rex.

“Jin? Malos, Mòrag, and Brighid with you?”

Another rough cough. “Yes. They’re unconscious. Mòrag’s bleeding.” A scrape of metal against stone followed by a grunt. “Looks like… nothing vital was hit. Head wound. Needs to be checked for a concision. You?”

“Feels like my head took a good knock. Think I’m alright otherwise. We ever run into one of those again, I say we run for it, _then_ let Siren blast it.”

A tired but amused snort. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Did we get buried in the debris?” Rex asked. “Its awfully dark.”

“Think the ground buckled under the impact. Made a sinkhole. That’s,” a pained gasp in time with another scrape of metal, “probably what saved us.”

“That and three suborn Aegises.”

An agreeing huff.

Rex wiggled his fingers and toes to make sure they were there. A sharp pain along his left arm felt like a sprain, or maybe a fractured bone. Outright broken bones hurt a fair bit more. ...though as he thought that, his body was starting to report Rex was going to enjoy a _lot_ of sores for the next week or so.

“You alright, Jin?” Rex wanted to know. Silence for a beat too long. “Jin?”

Jin’s voice was a lot less pained then it had been a minute ago. “I’m healing.”

“Well that’s good,” Rex stated the obvious. And had to wonder why Jin was sounding worried about it.

“Flesh Eaters heal slower than Blades. I heal slower than average because of my abilities.”

“Control over elementary particles comes with a down-side?” Rex guessed. Jin sounded about one bad dive away from loosing his grip. They really did not need Jin loosing it on top of everything else.

“Yeah.” The quiet thump of a head resting against stone. “I remember… almost everything. About what happened. I remember dying.” Rex winced but otherwise stayed quiet. “Whatever happened to convert us – Akhos and I – back to Core Crystals… It changed… something. I’m healing too fast.”

“Mythra and Pyra can still analyze Core Crystals. Maybe Malos can, too.”

“And if he can’t? If Pyra and Mythra can’t, either?”

“Then you move forward, one step at a time. Patroka and Mikhail are waiting, you know.” An interested hum. Rex took it and ran with it: “They’re still sleeping as Core Crystals. Took an extra minute with Mòrag to lock ‘em in Mòrag’s personal safe, so I know they haven’t been touched. You get your Driver to resonate with them; wake them up. And then you keep moving forward.”

“My Driver...” Jin echoed. “Wait. _Mikhail_ is a Core Crystal?”

“Malos confirmed it.”

“Mikhail is a _Blade Eater_.”

Rex allowed that revelation its due moment. “Well damn. And I thought trying to figure out how Malos got back from being disintegrated was causin’ headaches.”

“Malos was _what_?”

Rex didn’t bother to hide his grin. “Its a long story. Still owe him a drink, in fact.”

What might have been a groan sounded from farther past Jin. The groan resolved itself into a, “Will you drop that crap already?”

“Not on your life, Malos,” Rex chuckled.

A rumble of moving earth drowned out Malos’s reply. The whole world seemed to shake; the dirt under Rex’s head rattled. Then, with a sound like a stuck cork coming loose of a bottle, a massive head moved in the semi-darkness above them.

“Honestly, Rex,” Gramps’s voice floated down. “Can’t you stay out of trouble for five minutes?”

Rex nearly bust a gut laughing.

* * *

 

In the time it took Azurda to crack them free, the assorted Blades were able to get on their feet. None of them were fit to fight – and Nia was still out cold; Dromarch was tending to her religiously – but they were able to start helping Azurda shove aside molten rock. Which was just… damn. The rock had gotten so hot it had turned into lava, and then cooled so fast it had formed a shell. The shear amount of ether used to form a shield strong enough to withstand _that_ was hard to wrap one’s head around.

Mid-way through their excavation, Mòrag had regained consciousness. Alert and responsive it was safe to assume she wouldn’t be shuffling off this mortal coil any time soon. The Special Inquisitor had picked up a broken leg in addition to the head wound, and so was set the task of making sure Rex didn’t try to walk on his broken ankle. One of the lesser tasks Brighid set herself was trying to find Mòrag’s hat, or at least locating its remains.

They were just starting to toss around ideas on how to get the humans out without further injury when Aegaeon, the Emperor himself, and a squad of men arrived on site. An order from the boy Emperor had Mòrag refraining from doing more than brushing dirt off her head. And apparently the Emperor was quite willing to say damn propriety and hug his sister.

Tucked into one of two transports making speed for Hardhaigh Palace’s docks, Malos had to bite his tongue. It was a tie which corner had the more sickly sweet scene: Pyra and Mythra with Rex practically sitting on their laps; or the baby Emperor holding his Special Inquisitor’s hand as she laid prone on a stretcher, Brighid standing guard over them both.

Jin’s back was resting against Malos’s shoulder. Quiet enough not to be overheard, Malos asked, “Can you believe this shit?”

Jin’s response was equally quiet: “Still trying to believe I’m alive.”

Malos considered elbowing Jin in the ribs. Instead, he sighed, “No kidding. I’m trying to get used to the idea of having a brat.” An odd flutter prickled Malos’s guts. “You said she was with Akhos.”

“And another Blade. Roc.” Jin hesitated – and Malos did _not_ like that. At all. “They would have been out of the blast radius.”

“They were. Barely.”

Bad reflexes. A blast strong enough to kill Brighid would blow the transport out of the sky. The transport they were _on_.

Dispersing the ether he’d gathered, Malos snarled, “Would it kill you to _not_ sneak up on us?”

Brighid arched a delicate eyebrow. Crossing her arms over her chest, she stated, “The Emperor came across Roc, Akhos, and Millie on his way towards us. He ordered them taken to the infirmary and put under the care of his personal physician. Radio chatter confirms they arrived two hours ago.”

Oh Father… That odd prickle in Malos’s guts solidified into frozen dread.

“Are they…?” Jin managed to voice.

“I have no further information.” Brighid’s expression gentled. “From what the Emperor described, Akhos was focusing all of his ether on Millie. She will have survived.”

And Akhos couldn’t have focused ether if his Core Crystal were damaged. So. They were both alive. Akhos was alive. His brat was alive.

“How soon until--?” Jin started to ask.

Brighid checked something out of their line of sight. “Five minutes. Pyra has agreed to stand as the Emperor’s guard. Therefore, I will escort you both.”

“Thank you,” Jin said for them.

Brighid acknowledged their thanks with a nod; eyed Malos a moment longer, and then headed for her Driver’s side.

Malos rubbed his hand across his face. Trying to do – whatever the hell he had done to find his brat earlier – it wasn’t _working_. Where before there had been a trail bright enough to be impossible to miss, there was now a thin strand. Dread looped with fear. His brat was alive… but hurt. Badly hurt.

The transport shook minutely as it docked. “Five minutes, hell,” Malos grumbled, getting to his feet. Jin kept one hand firmly on Malos’s arm – and that was the _only_ thing that kept Malos from tearing out of the transport. Literally tearing: That wall wasn’t really necessary, right? Remove that, and he could get to his brat that much faster.

Brighid lingered with her Driver an eternity longer. ...alright, no longer than it took to see her safely handed off to the medics. And Malos couldn’t blame her for that; not without being a flaming hypocrite. But _his brat_ was _not here_ and Malos was _ticked off_.

(Scared stiff. Ticked off. Same thing, right?)

“This way,” Brighid ordered. Without waiting for their response, she headed out of the transport.

Malos charged after her, shoulders hunched and head tucked down as though he planed to make a literal charge. There was a palpable chill next to him as Jin followed at the pace Malos set. That chill kept Malos’s temper from flaring. He couldn’t go breaking things because Jin would be disappointed. ...and then Jin would help try and keep him from his brat, because Malos breaking things was the opposite of gentle, and a wounded brat _needed_ gentle. So Malos _had_ to keep it together a little longer. A little –

 _Akhos_ registered first. Laid out flat on his back on a sterile table-turned-bed. A starched sheet covered his modesty. His armor and clothes were gone. His glasses were missing; he was going to be pissed about that. Bits of his body _flickered_ like it couldn’t figure out if it was going to break down into ether or remain solid. Which – damn. Malos knew first hand how much that level of damage _hurt_. Malos got to him and –

Malos’s body acted on instinct; reached and _reached_ without conscious direction to scan and analyze Akhos’s Core Crystal. The process itself moved faster than thought. It was instinct. Minor abrasions and micro cracks were present throughout the entire Crystal. Nothing catastrophic; it would mend on its own in a matter of hours-to-days. But right here… right now… all Malos had to do was… give a little nudge…!

Akhos’s body stabilized.

Malos deliberately stepped back. And tried his damnedest to keep his expression a neutrally pissed off.

_What the shit did I just do?_

It didn’t matter. Right now, it couldn’t matter. Ether was still leaking from Akhos like a water through a sieve. No… Not _leaking_. Being directed by an unconscious Akhos (how?!) towards –

“Brat...” Malos breathed.

Absently, Malos heard paperwork being flipped through. From a distance Jin’s voice reported, “Akhos kept her alive.”

His brat was swathed in bandages from her head to her toes. A line dripping clear fluid was slid in to the back of her hand. Her tiny chest rose and fell and that was the only way Malos knew she was still breathing.

“All her major organs are bruised. The only bones not broken are her head, spine, and chest. No way to tell if brain damage was avoided until she wakes up,” Brighid calmly cataloged. Another flipping of papers sound. “If I understand Dr. Tanntallis’s notes, you’re correct, Jin. Akhos channeling ether as he has been is what kept her alive.”

Malos moved slowly. Cautious of her head and neck and all the aches in-between, he slowly – oh so slowly – shifted his brat so that she was in his arms. She didn’t even twitch her nose. Gathering ether to him, Malos carefully, slowly, so achingly slowly, dripped ether into the link between them. _Pain_ met his ether’s touch. Sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, Malos cradled his brat as close as he dared. A little bit more ether; a drop at a time. Electric ether clung tenaciously like sparkly guideposts for what his brat needed his ether to do.

Akhos sat straight up, the starts of a scream dying in his throat.

“Easy,” Jin murmured, gripping Akhos’s forearm. The electric Blade gulped for air; too weak to sit upright for long, Akhos leaned against Jin.

“I just had the strangest nightmare,” Akhos mumbled. His right hand fumbled at his face as though looking for his glasses. Ether pooled in his hand, solidifying into the missing needless eye-wear. Puckering around a frown, Akhos noted, “Well damn. Looks like I’m still having it.”

“Funny, Akhos,” Malos quietly deadpanned. “Make yourself some armor before you move.”

“If you please,” Brighid added her own deadpan.

Akhos blinked. Look at Malos and the brat. Looked at Brighid. Looked down.

“I should be dead,” Akhos noted clinically.

“From embarrassment?” Brighid inquired.

“From my injuries. Blasted hard enough to loose my armor?” Akhos fussed with his glasses. “Flesh Eaters don’t heal from that level of damage. They can’t.”

“Flesh Eaters also don’t return to their Core Crystals,” Brighid pointed out.

Akhos nodded agreement, sitting up under his own power now. “The thought someone or some _thing_ was able to convert Flesh Eater Core Crystals back to basic Core Crystals while still retaining Flesh Eater incorporated data is...” Akhos paused, visibly searching for, “Far fetched. At _best_.”

“Not with some of the shit Father had access to.”

...damn his body for acting _again_ without Malos thinking.

Brighid frowned. “True. Much of what was in Elysium was… beyond reckoning. But to do everything Akhos outlined _and_ do it before they died?” Brighid shook her head and shrugged. “It seems outlandish. But, I will discuss that possibility with Pyra and Mythra.”

“It wouldn’t explain why we have our memories,” Jin added.

“A lot of things aren’t explained,” Akhos tacked on, pushing up his glasses. To Jin he said, “Welcome back, by the way.”

Jin’s smile was sardonic like he was acknowledging the impossibility of situation as a whole. “Thanks.”

Akhos answered the smile with his own. Sobering, he turned back towards Malos and the brat. “How is she?”

“You tell me. You’re the one that kept her alive,” Malos stated.

“I’m the one that got her tossed off a building,” Akhos countered.

“And then kept her alive at risk of your own life extinguishing.” When Akhos gave him a confused look, Jin told him, “Your body nearly broke apart. But you were still channeling healing Arts.”

“And you didn’t stop even when you were breaking apart,” Malos tacked on. “So get something better than a sheet wrapped around your ass and look at my brat.”

That caused Akhos to adjust his glasses with a grin. “As the Aegis commands. If the Lady Brighid might allow a few moments?”

“So long as you remember attempting to break out of the infirmary is poor manners. Especial if the breakout would require removing walls,” Brighid quipped.

“I’m not moving until my brat is,” Malos snarled.

Brighid held position a heartbeat longer, gauging their sincerity. “For security reasons, I cannot leave you without escort. So,” she glared at Malos before he could do more than open his mouth, “I will be standing outside the door.” Putting words to action, Brighid stepped out of the room.

There wasn’t a curtain to draw or a spot of privacy to be found in the room. Which – hell with it. A man could only be asked to endure so much. Besides… Malos needed to get a better look at his brat. The first impression of _mummified brat_ was still accurate. Some of the bandages were thicker than the others. Wrapped around some sort of cast? Made sense if there were broken bones involved. Part of him wanted his brat to open her eyes; but waking up might mean she’d start consciously feeling _worse_. Let her sleep. Let her be numb to the pain she was in.

Armored again, Akhos put his hand on his brat’s forehead. Closing his eyes he concentrated.

“Nia should look at her,” Akhos suggested softly.

“Once she’s conscious, we’ll ask,” Jin promised. At Akhos’s raised eyebrow, Jin answered, “The fight was… chaotic.”

“It was a clusterfuck,” Malos stated bluntly.

“We melted solid rock out from underneath us,” Jin confirmed.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. “That was likely the same explosion that --”

The door opened without anyone knocking first. The same doctor from before walked in, expression shouting clear as Malos’s own that he would broker no crap from any of them. Ignoring Jin and Akhos like they weren’t even there, he headed straight for the brat, his cane tapping the ground with every other step. He put his fingers to Millie’s throat to take her pulse; lifted her right eyelid, then her left. Hummed. Took out the tube from her hand, replacing it with an empty vial which swiftly filled with blood. Vial filled, he replaced the tube.

“Consider. She may be better off dead.”

Malos’s vision went red. Shifting his brat so she was cradled in one arm, Malos reached break the bastard’s nose.

But he’d been expecting it. Without trying hard, he sidestepped Malos’s punch, brought his cane up, and bashed Malos over the head with its top.

“I said _consider_. To fight, or to die. That choice is hers alone.”

And then the bastard walked out.

“Brighid?” Jin demanded, voice arctic.

“Dr. Tanntallis,” Brighid introduced belatedly. “He has been the personal physician to the Emperor for the past two generations. He has a habit of… refusing to sugarcoat things. If he’s saying she might be better off dead --”

“My brat is _not_ \--” Malos started to snarl.

“ _If he’s saying she might be better off dead_ ,” Brighid forcefully ran over Malos’s words, “then I think you should all prepare for the worst.” Taking the two steps needed to reach it, Brighid collected and then tossed a clipped set of files to Akhos. “You’ll have a clearer understanding of this than anyone else present, Akhos. Before you ask, yes. I’ve already sent word for Nia to be summoned as soon as she is able.”

Adjusting his glasses, Akhos offered his absent thanks, already engrossed in the paperwork. The further down the page he read, the paler Akhos got. He read through the information twice.

“Well?” Malos demanded.

Akhos hesitated. “Let’s let Nia take a look first before finalizing conclusions.”

Oh, that did _not_ leave Malos feeling good _at all_.

* * *

 

It seemed to take forever for Nia to get there. When she did arrive, Malos kept his trap shut. The girl should not have been moving, period. Dromarch was subtly bracing her so that she didn't fall flat on her face. She also had the ugliest bruise around her neck and face, like that monster or one of its friends had gotten a chokehold on her. From the way she rubbed at her chest, the bruise extended below Nia's neck. Which meant it probably hadn't started as a bruise.

"Mythra check your Core Crystal?" Malos blurted.

"Check my... whot?" Nia tilted her head and blinked. "Why the bloody 'ell would Mythra check my Core Crystal? _How_ would she check it 's the other question."

At this point, Malos was done questioning how he knew any of this crap, and let his mouth fire away: "Pyra could check it as well. All Blade data goes through an Aegis at some point in a Blade's life. That data gets sent on for storage and sorting. So long as a Blade hasn't ceased any time in the past thousand years, an Aegis can access a specific Blade's data and apply repairs to their Core Crystal within limits. Cracked is workable. Shattered is shit out of luck."

"It works similar to my lady's power, but for Blades alone?" Dromarch inquired. Malos indicated affirmative. Dromarch hummed, "Intriguing."

"I'd think Flesh Eaters would fall under the category of shit out of luck," Nia mused.

"You're still a _Blade_ ," Malos stressed. "You went through more shit than average, yeah. Doesn't make you any less a person."

...Father damn it. Now they were _all_ giving him various looks. Even Jin!

Nia shook her head to get her eyes unstuck. "Either Rex punched you hard enough for some kindness to sneak in while you were done keeled over, or that brat of yours is an Architect designed miracle who got your head back on straight. Not sure which is less disconcertin'." Hobbling forward with Dromarch's assistance, Nia ordered, "I'll talk to Pyra later. Now let me take a look at that brat o' yours."

Malos shifted his brat so that Nia could reach without extending herself. The motion earned him a raised eyebrow but otherwise no comment from Nia herself. Setting her hands as Akhos had, on his brat's head and chest, Nia closed her eyes and breathed in. Next to her, on some silent signal, Dromach began passing ether to Nia through their link.

Nia's water was and wasn't like Akhos's electricity. Where Akhos's power called to attention the bodily functions dedicated to immune responses and cellular repair like a director called out stage directions to seasoned actors, Nia's power nudged. Cajoled. Outright bodychecked issues. It flowed in with the warmth of a spring thaw; ebbed into the cracks like water into a desert spring. And where it had to -- it blasted apart blockages created by tissue healing improperly or too hastily.

The water flowed out, and Nia had to lean against Dromarch. Hard.

"Akhos. Before you got to Alba Cavanich, were you able to get this child a proper meal at all?" Nia breathlessly asked.

"Ardanian field rations don't count. So, no," Akhos answered.

"No, they really don't. The nutritional balance is all wrong for an ankle biter. 'S better than nothing, to be sure, but..." Nia stopped herself, and sighed. Then she looked Malos in the eye. "She's dying. And there ain't a bloody damn thing anybody can do about it."

Malos felt the bottom drop out of the world. "What do you.... What do you mean?"

"My power -- all healin' Arts... They've got limits. 'Specially when dealin' with humans 'n Nopon. A Blade looses a finger or an arm or -- 'ell, they loose their guts! They'll be able to heal by condensin' their own ether to reconstitute the missing tissue. It's why the best emergency treatment you can give a Blade is ta stick 'em in as much of their element as you can."

Dromarch verbally stepped into the pause when Nia's breath caught. "Humans have a sort of emergency reserve of materials within their bodies. Fatty tissue, muscles; bones, even, should the matter be desperate. All of that can be broken down for repairs. A healing Blade taps into that reserve. Ether is used to accelerate the process of distributing those materials and supplements them as well. In extremes, it can even be used to patch and hold until repairs catch up with what is needed. But unlike for Blades, ether cannot be used as whole cloth. And Lady Millie... I fear she has no reserve upon which to call. Her body will start breaking itself down in its desperation, and that breakdown will shortly include vital organs."

Malos understood the words they were saying, but... But the words made _no sense_.

"Malos..." Nia started to say. Stopped. And gently rested her hand on Malos's knee. "Keep her comfortable until her time. It's the only thing you can do for her now."

Malos stared at Nia's hand. He had come back to life, terrified his brat a half dozen times, traveled across Mor Adrain's Father cursed desert, dealt with politicians, figured out he actually _liked_ life, staged a rescue interrupted by tentacle monster – and now he was being told _letting his brat die_ was the _only_ thing he could do?

 _No_.

"Malos?"

Nia was baking up. Dromarch's hackles were up in alarm. Akhos was stepping back and Jin was stepping forward. The shadows in the room had gotten ominously dark.

"No." Malos repeated, "Fuck no."

"This isn't something you can bludgeon over the head!" Akhos protested.

" _Watch me_ ," Malos snarled.

Darkness sucked him _in_ and _down_ and _out_.

Gently warm sunlight dappled through tree branches. The wind was a comfortable tease, carrying the scents of moist earth, rich water, and living things. In the far distance, a church's bell caroled the hour.

The Elysium memory file.

Not what Malos had been expecting. Then again, he hadn't really been _thinking_. Just...

"Big?"

Having not heard her voice in weeks Malos should have been startled. Instead he chuckled to himself, shaking his head at silliness in general, and turned.

Yeah. There she was. His brat was standing right behind him. She'd pictured herself in a light purple sundress and no shoes. The lack of footwear kept her swaying back and forth, the feeling of grass a prickly and unfamiliar sensation.

"Big, huh? That's what you call me, brat?" Malos asked, squatting down to better match her height.

She looked shy, hiding her hands behind her back and looking away from him. "Malos 's hard to say. So's Akhos. So's words."

He smiled, warmly as he could. "Makes sense."

They stayed like that for a bit, in silence that was companionable but... tense. But Malos didn't want to break the peace (for once). He wanted them to stay just like this, without a care in the world, for a little longer.

"What's this?" his brat asked, pointing at the tree.

"It's a tree."

His brat's eyes went huge. "Nu-uh! Trees are all in picture books! Are we in a picture book?"

"No, we're not." Malos made a promise to himself to show his brat actual trees. Getting out of Mor Ardain sounded like a damn good idea, actually.

"Are we... dead?"

Spike of ice, right to the heart. Malos sat down so his brat could climb into his lap. He forced himself to ask, "Why do you think we're dead?"

His brat frowned. "I remember hurting. A lot. You 'nd Ack said dying hurt lots."

Malos was not going to lie to his brat. "It can. But you're dying, not dead."

"But dying means I'm gonna be dead soon... right?"

"Right." Malos hesitated. Was it worth it? Was it... right? ...screw it. "But I am a stubborn ass bastard who will not take _you can't_ for an answer. I'm going to give you half my Core Crystal," _half my life_ , "so that you won't die."

At least not for the next nine decades. Maybe the next century. Depended on a lot of factors, none of which were easy to explain.

His brat looked at him with huge eyes. Then looked at his Core Crystal. She pointed at it. "That?"

"Yeah."

"But it's in your chest! Won't giving me half hurt?"

"No." Not compared to when Mythra had shattered it five hundred years ago.

"But…"

Oh Father. Not a genuine lip wobble. Fake ones to get what she wanted, Malos could endure. Real ones? "Hey. Hey, shhh, shhh, it's alright."

"But... But I don't want you to hurt! I wanna eat applesauce and go see a play and color in those fun books Mr. Grandpa talked about and... and... and I wanna do it with you and Ack! Not get you hurt!"

Malos rested his forehead against his brat's. "Life hurts, sometimes. But that's the price you pay for all the fun times."

His brat sniffled. "Don't want you to hurt."

"Then let me do this. Let me give you half my Core Crystal." _Let me keep you a little longer._

Another sniffle. After a time of who knew how long, her sitting in his lap, his brat agreed.

Malos kissed the crown of her head. "Thank you."

His brat snuggled close against him. Her right hand reached, almost like an afterthought, to press against his chest.

Oh. _Oh_. Father. This felt –

 _life rushing in darkness standing defiant against all else strength pouring out of him so much_ too _much more strength than he had than he could know so brilliant and warm and_

Alive. Malos felt _alive_.

Pain slapped against his awareness. Malos braced his strength against the pain. Against the failing frailties that paradoxically made humans so strong. Held it for a minute more. One minute more. One minute more...!

"Breathe, Malos."

Blinking away the stars from his eyes, Malos breathed. Mythra's face was right up next to his.

"What's with that shit ass look?" Malos croaked. Damn. He sounded as sore as he felt. He also felt... lighter. Weird.

Mythra's smile upgraded to a relieved smirk. "Look at my baby brother. All grown up and saving damsels in distress."

Malos slapped Mythra's hand away when she reached out to pinch his cheeks. Or at least tried. Millie had a death grip on his right hand, and his left was pinned supporting her body against his.

"Screw you," Malos retorted elegantly.

"Watch your language." Mythra mock punched him in the shoulder. "She'll be waking up soon."

 _Millie_...

Steeling himself, Malos looked his brat over.

...huh. Half his Core Crystal flickering on her chest... Looked pretty alright.

His brat's nose wrinkled. Twitched, as she struggled to stay asleep. Or maybe struggled to wake up? ...mmm. Nah. From the echo of his Core Crystal and their ether link, Malos could practically _hear_ the request for five more minutes.

Grumbling sleepily, Millie opened her eyes.

"Hey, brat," Malos spoke softly.

Wiggling, Millie tried to say good morning. The words stuck in her throat -- still. Too tired to be frustrated, his brat nuzzled up against his chest.

"Want some breakfast?" Malos asked.

A sleepy nod affirmative.

"You stay in bed, here, and Malos and I will go get you breakfast. With _applesauce_ ," Mythra promised.

Applesauce was the magic word. Giggling in a sleepy stupor, his brat wiggled in an effort to get out of Malos's lap. Rolling his eyes, and yeah he was smiling about it, too, Malos scooped his brat close. She squealed in laughter, legs kicking at him halfheartedly. Another second airborne and Malos had Millie under the starched infirmary sheets, safely wrapped tight. He bopped her nose and ordered, "Stay, or no applesauce."

Millie nodded, pulling the covers up over her head to indicate she wouldn't budge.

"Brat," Malos said fondly.

The sheet hidden toddler giggled.

"We're going now," Mythra sing-songed. Another giggle. Gold eyes poked out over the sheet's edge to watch Mythra and Malos walk out the door.

The door closed behind them, taking Malos's knees with it.

Mythra held him up. "Breathe. Easy does it. Remember: What you feel is an echo. It's real, and yeah, you _were_ reflecting her injuries, but _yours_ are healed."

"Ugh." Malos acknowledged. "How is she giggling when she feels like a pile of shit?"

"Eh. Probably too stubborn to notice," Mythra tried. Hesitated. "Or from what Nia, Dromarch, and Akhos _aren't_ saying, she's been in chronic pain for as long as she's been your Driver. Probably longer."

"So she's _used to it?_ " Malos demanded. "Fuck," he opined when Mythra nodded affirmative.

"By the way, Jin wants to slap you."

"Mmph."

"He won't because slapping you hard enough for it to stick would be hard enough Millie would feel it. Still wants to. Notice anything interesting about the hallway?"

Malos gave Mythra a side-eyed glare. Deciding to humor her, Malos looked at the hallway.

The hallway with a _tarp_ instead of a _wall_ between them and open air. Oh, and with a sizable hole going down – Malos double checked – four floors. With a matching hole in the ceiling. Blinking at it all, Malos looked back at Mythra.

"Melting from the Aegis chamber up to the deck? Wasn't just to show off," Mythra stated.

Well shit. "No wonder Jin wants to slap me." There was an uncomfortable gurgle in his midsection. "Breakfast."

"Can you walk?"

Good question. Malos closed his eyes, centering himself. Felt like... "Yeah."

Mythra helped Malos steady on his feet; waited until he was walking to give him a half step's distance. She directed, "Third door on your left."

Third door on his left was Jin, Akhos, Rex, and a familiar bird Blade seated at a table, all nursing assorted steaming mugs. Dromarch was laying on the floor, Nia sitting on his back, and Pyra playing her power across/through Nia's Core Crystal in a scan. On the table was sufficient foodstuff to make a feast.

"Hey! Look who's not dead," Mythra announced.

"You son of a volff," Akhos cursed.

"Yeah, yeah," Malos waved aside the insult, too familiar with Akhos not to hear his relief. He could give Akhos crap later about not saying in plain common how much his brat hurt _all the time_.

"You're alright?" Jin demanded.

"Fine. Brat feels like shit. Where's the applesauce stashed?" Malos demanded, already selecting flatcakes, sliced fruit, tasty sausage –

Akhos confiscated the plate. Ignoring Malos's snarl, Akhos stated, "Millie's digestive system is in no condition to handle complex foods like these. Applesauce and clear broth. For a week. And even the applesauce is pushing it."

Malos rolled his eyes. "Fine. Now give me back _my_ breakfast."

"Eat it here," Akhos ordered, capitulating.

" _Fine._ " Malos rolled a flatcake around a sausage and proceeded to dig in.

From their bite of the room, Pyra sat back away from Nia. "There. Not much damage that wouldn't have resolved itself in a few months. Better?"

Nia stretched, yawning. "Like having taken a catnap. Cheers for that."

"Pyra, Malos wants to know where you put Millie's breakfast," Mythra chimed.

"And the applesauce," Malos added around a mouthful of food.

"My sympathies, Akhos," Nia quipped. "Teachin' Millie proper manners is gunna be an uphill fight with such sterling examples as him around." Nia laughed out loud when Malos tossed an apple core at her.

"I put the applesauce over -- oh! Those iced fruit juices!" Pyra clapped her hands, interlacing her fingers and bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Can Millie have fruit juice?" When Akhos confirmed she could, Pyra squeaked, "Excellent! I've been experimenting with the ice Blades in the Garfont Mercenaries on a new recipe! Just a second; I won't take but a minute!"

Rex reached out his had; before he could get a syllable out, Pyra was dashing out the door. Laughing at himself more so than Pyra, Rex noted, "She's been over the moon about it. The kids love 'em."

"...kids?" Akhos asked quietly.

"Bunch of the mercs have kids," Rex confirmed, "and it's been standing policy since Vandham founded it that any orphan a Garfont Merc brings to us will be taken care of by the village, no questions asked, no debt owed."

"It's what we feel is the only proper thing to do," the bird Blade hummed.

"There's been too many coming from Mor Ardain lately," Rex continued. "I was gearing up to join Roc here when we got word about you 'nd Millie. Word is there's a bandit troupe hitting up every settlement they can find. No word on why or what they're taking. Some rumors started up that it's a roving band of monsters."

"Who or whatever they are, they don't leave witnesses. If anyone survived, it was by luck. What I've seen of the sites – could point either way, to monsters, or monsters that used to be men," the bird Blade – Roc – added. “I’ve gone over the report from the Titan tank company you were with. It reads just like all the other sites.”

“How many other sites?” Jin asked, voice frosty.

Roc didn’t hold back: “Nineteen that we know of. Anywhere from twelve to fifty others are suspected. The Empire keeps a tight ship on contact with its cities and the majority of its villages. Given that, and everything that’s occurred this past year, I’m hoping over half the suspected lost villages are just having communication issues from lingering impact damage. Units like the Titan tank squad are on extended sweeps to check.”

Jin clenched his hands into fists, deliberately keeping them off the table. The ambient temperature dropped noticeably.

“You want at ‘em?” Malos asked. Jin forced his hands flat; looked right at Malos, and nodded. “Che. Fine by me. We’ll hit up the old dry dock, get supplied. Do it right and we can take turns babysitting at – hell. Where are we going to stash our Driver?”

“ _Our_ Driver?” Akhos echoed, pushing up his glasses.

Malos rolled his eyes. “She’s my brat. _Our_ Driver.”

“She’s going to need all the Blades she can handle once Indol gets word of her,” Roc opined. Three focused stares hit him. Without so much as a ruffled feather, Roc shrugged. “The Praetor’s premature death left a power vacuum. His sanity flying the nest caused a crisis of faith, exacerbating the imbalance of power. Its a civil war among the elites in everything but name.”

“Damn good thing auntie Corrine was able to get the Fonsett kids studying abroad _out_.” Rex held his mug a hair too tightly.

“The mercs you picked to help didn’t hurt, either, oh Driver mine,” Roc preened. Literally. Reached right over and preened Rex’s hair into something with slightly less resemblance to a Nopon with bed head. Rex halfheartedly bat at Roc’s hand.

“I’m back!”

The words registered after Pyra had put down a double row of… somethings… in front of Jin. The whatever-they-weres were shaped like twelve elongated ovals cut in half split into two rows. Sticking up from each oval was a… stick. Made of some kind of clear silicate. The edges of some type of silicate wrapper poked out over the edges of the half ovals.

“Freeze this,” Pyra ordered. Jin arched an eyebrow at the… thing. “Start from the stick and work your way out. It needs to be rock solid or it’ll slip off the stick, and its not as fun eating it that way.” Jin turned his look on Pyra. The flame Aegis giggled, “Well go on!”

Another beat passed before Jin sighed, acquiescing to the inevitability of Pyra’s command. Giving the oddity another look, Jin opted to put his hands on either end of the rows, palms facing towards one another. Ice was a visible force between his hands as it sucked the warmth right out of the contraption. Jin looked at Pyra in a wordless, _Well?_

“Rock solid,” Pyra repeated.

Jin sighed, but did as bid, increasing the amount of ice ether flowing through the thing. In the time it took Malos to wolf down three more flatcake/tasty sausage combos, the exteriors of the contraption’s ovals were starting to frost.

“There! Now we can test one,” Pyra giggled. Once Jin ceased running ice typed either through the thing and had removed his hands, Pyra reached over and – pulled a frozen solid shaped mass of grape-walnut purple out by its stick. “Ta-da! Frozen juice pops!”

Rex and Roc both reached over to grab their own sticks. Roc’s came out black pomegranate red and Rex’s was the warning hue of hot oranges.

“Nicely done, Jin,” Rex chuckled. “Good and solid. Should take a good couple of hours to melt, yeah?”

“Mmm. Sweet and tart. Just the ticket,” Roc clucked, beak clicking against the frozen juice… thing.

Jin eyed them both. Akhos beat Jin to the punch and grabbed one of the things. The one Akhos grabbed looked like it had come from a love lemon, while Jin’s looked like starry persimmon juice. ...okay. Now Malos _knew_ he had to try one of these. Anything that could give Akhos a face like _that…_!

Huh. Plumage peach. Just… plumage peach. A bit sweater than the fruit itself. The cold was a nice contrast to the omnipresent heat of Mor Ardain. “Not bad,” Malos judged. “Just don’t expect my brat to drop applesauce in favor of this.”

“I made an applesauce flavored one special order,” Pyra informed him, adding a friendly wink.

And here Malos had thought _Mythra_ was the sister to keep an eye on. Pyra could be devious when she put her mind to it.

Right. Time to get Millie her past due breakfast.


	10. Good Morning

The oh-so-important Imperial doctor took another look at Millie later that afternoon. Since the bandages and casts had met the same fate as the hallway walls and floor, the doc didn't stay long. He hummed, took another blood sample, and gave Malos a glare. Then he left without so much as a backwards glance. Nor did he have the politeness to tell them Millie was free to leave; he had the Flamebringer deliver the news. It was an interesting power play: Avoid dealing with them longer than absolutely necessary, and play into the fact the Special Inquisitor had questions for them.

She also had with her a box containing two Core Crystals.

Akhos grabbed Patroka's Core Crystal immediately. Jin hesitated a moment before grabbing Mikhail's. Which, granted, made sense. Mikhail was a _Blade_ Eater. If something of him was to be found, it should have been his corpse. _Not_ a Core Crystal.

"I would recommend awakening them at the earliest opportunity," the Special Inquisitor suggested. She followed that up with a neat stack of paper ten pages thick. "This is a condensed report on intelligence and counter-intelligence actions by various Indolin factions over the past two months. As of last week, there has been a noticeable jump in efforts to verify rumors regarding Malos's return and/or confirm your exact whereabouts."

"A search made significantly easier given recent events," the Jewel of Mor Ardain pointed out bluntly.

"Much of that can be laid at Mythra's door. Most rumors appear to be doing just that," the Flamebringer noted. "But soon or late, word you have reappeared will make its way to the powers in Indol. And as has been so blatantly demonstrated, though His Majesty would it were otherwise, Mor Ardain cannot protect you."

"Uraya may be willing to shelter you. For a price far steeper than the Emperor offered," Brighid suggested – no. Stated. Laying out the fact like a card laid bare upon a table.

Akhos looked at Jin; pushed up his glasses and shrugged. Jin in turn looked over to Malos, who shrugged around his armful of brat.

"Going underground is an option, but a poor one, given your Driver's needs," the Special Inquisitor reminded them.

"Going underground would be ceding victory," Jin countered softly. A beat for the Inquisitor to ask questions; neither she nor her Blade took up Jin's silent offer. So Jin asked a different question: "What is Mor Adrain's stance on the Indol Treaty?"

"Mixed at best," Lady Mòrag answered honestly.

"Recent evidence has come to light that Indol was abusing its quote purification unquote of Core Crystals." Brighid paused to allow scoffs, then resumed with, "The Emperor has ordered all Core Crystals of fallen Ardanian Drivers be sheltered by the military until such time as new Drivers are selected by merit and lottery."

"Lottery?" Jin echoed.

"Not everyone has the aptitude for being a Driver. If personnel have merit, they will be put to the Crystal to be tested," Lady Mòrag clarified.

"Civilians may also petition for the right to test their mettle. They will be encouraged to sign with the army, but not mandated to. His Highness has ordered a special administrative branch be formed for the registration and regulation of Drivers," Brighid added.

"Indol's not going to get that list," Akhos guessed.

"Indol is not going to get a lot," Brighid confirmed.

Lady Mòrag adjusted her gloves. "Let us set politics aside, shall we? I have been remiss in my manners. Good morning, Lady Millie." She waited for Millie to respond; shyly, the toddler nodded hello. "You are feeling better, I hope?" Another nod, this one more enthusiastic. "Excellent. I cannot apologize enough for the misfortunes which befell you. Rest easy that the perpetrators have been brought to justice."

"The dumbasses who kidnapped you were thrown in the dungeons," Malos translated. Millie exaggerated an, _Oh_.

"There were survivors?" Akhos asked, looking a bit bemused.

"They had a limited awareness of the monster's capabilities and planned accordingly," Lady Mòrag confirmed.

"From what we've discovered, they were originally planning on unleashing it inside Alba Cavanich," Brighid reported.

"...come again?" Akhos blinked.

Brighid nodded, arms crossed as if to hold in her flames.

"Damn _idiots_ ," Malos summed up.

"On that, we agree," Lady Mòrag hummed. She flicked lint off her glove again. "I am given to understand Nia and Dromarch will shortly be arranging travel to Gormott. Will you be joining them?"

"Yeah," Malos answered first; the other Blades gave him a look. "If Nia doesn't kick our asses for going with, yes, we will." Akhos added a raised eyebrow to his look. "You really wanna stay here?" Malos demanded.

"We have rather worn out our welcome," Akhos concurred.

Jin kept up his look at Malos.

"Trees," Malos said as though it were an explanation.

Millie pressed her hands together then folded them open like someone opening a book.

That seemed to clarifying things for Jin. Nodding, he mused, "Trees are nice."

Brighid stifled a smile at Millie's innocent bemusement.

"Very well then. I ask you keep me appraised of your departure details." Lady Mòrag paused deliberately. "And to give me fair warning before you wake your comrades."

"Tonight. Before bedtime." Malos's words once more gained him the ire of his fellows. "You really want to put it off any longer?"

Jin sighed. "No." His expression was forlorn as he turned his gaze on Mikhail's Core Crystal.

Malos's tone softened. "It's him, Jin."

"That's what worries me," Jin admitted. He took another breath. "But you're right. This shouldn't be put off any longer."

"We'll insure the guards are well placed beyond the expected blast radius," Lady Mòrag promised, deadpan.

The Ardanian and her Blade exited to Malos's cackling laughter.

* * *

 

Big was worried. Ack was worried. Jin was worried, too. They were all worried, and they weren't telling her _why_.

They were in a room with a lot of windows. Outside, she could see clouds puff-puffing through the sky, and the sun going beddie-bye, and _alllll_ the big ships going to bed. Inside, there were fancy chairs all around a long table. Red Lady and Gold Lady had come, too, with Red Lady's boy, but they'd stayed outside the door. Nice Lady and her big white fluffy were outside the door, too.

Big put her down on the fancy table. "Hey. This is important, so I need you to listen. Got it?"

She nodded.

"Do you remember when we first met? That stone you touched, that looked like this?" Big touched the half of the crystal in his chest. The outside part to the middle part Big had given her.

Yes, she remembered it well. Things had been all sparkly and then Big had appeared and then Big had blown up a lot of things.

"Yes, I blew up the landscape."

"Of course you did," Ack chuckled.

" _Quiet,_ " Big snarled in the not-angry way. Ack chuckled some more. " _Any_ way. Do you remember when Akhos showed up?"

Yes! She'd touched a pretty stone that wasn't the same kind of pretty as Big's stone. It had been up high! We're adults always so silly with pretties?

"People like me, like Akhos, and like Jin – we're Blades. When we get hurt – really, badly hurt. The kind of hurt that kills – we turn into those stones. Then, when a brat like you makes a wish on that stone, we come back."

... _wow._

"A lot to take in, huh."

Trying to think how that worked made her head hurt.

"That's the picture book version."

...oh, _ow._

"Yeah." Big gave her a little bit. "Two friends of mine got hurt and turned into stones. A lot of shit happened when they got hurt. They might wake up thinking that shit is still happening."

Did Big think his friends would blow up the room?

"They might blow up the whole palace."

She felt her eyes go wide. The _whole big building?_

"Yep. The whole place. But we can't let them keep sleeping as stones. So. You're going to wake them up, and then you're going to go with Pyra. Jin, Akhos, and me can take care of 'em – but we can't if you're right in the room with us."

"We don't do _contained_ when it comes to explosions, I'm afraid," Ack sighed, nudging his glasses.

Well, if Big was sure… She wouldn’t _like_ it. But she didn’t like Big being worried even more.

Big booped her nose. “That’s a brat.” Standing to his full height, Big called over to the door, “Pyra?”

Red Lady came in. “All set?”

“Yeah.” Big turned to Jin. “Still thinking Patroka first?”

Jin nodded. Jin didn’t talk as much as Big. (Nobody talked as much as Ack.) Maybe Jin had trouble with words, too?

Ack drew her attention by flourishing a shiney. Oooh… _shiney…_ It looked a lot like Ack’s stone had looked before the stone had turned into Ack. Big had said these magic stones needed a wish, though… She couldn’t think of any good wishes. She had Big and Ack and Jin and wasn’t hungry or tired or… Well. There was _one_ thing.

Wish made, she hugged the stone tight. It sparkled and grew warm and _flowed_ out of her grip the way bathwater slipped through her fingers. The glitter and sparkles turned into a pretty lady in a white jacket that looked kinda like Jin’s. Her hair was really long and black like nighttime, and really pretty.

Big pat the lady on the shoulder and said, “Welcome back, Patroka.”

Patro-- Pa – Bah! That was a hard name, too! She’d call her Pack, then, ‘cause her name sounded like Ack but with a “puh”.

“What the fuck?” said Pack.

“Breathe, sister, dear,” Ack asked. He sounded really worried. Pack sat down in a chair Ack had pulled out just for her.

“What the fuck?” Pack said again.

Jin picked her up and set her back down on the far side of the table, closest to where Red Lady was waiting. He looked scared and nervous as he handed her the other sparkly. This one felt kind of like Big’s sparkly, but kind of not. It felt kind of like feathers, too. She hoped using the same wish for this sparkly would be okay. She didn’t like how scared and nervous Jin looked.

This sparkly kind of _ka-boom_ ed. Darkness swirled into a man shorter than Big wearing a dark black and red armor-suit-thinggy. Yellow hair kinda booped into his eyes. He looked like he had a boo-boo, because his face got all scrunchy and he almost fell down. Jin caught him. (Jin could catch everybody. Except who caught Jin if Jin tripped? She’d have to ask Big.)

“Easy,” Jin murmured.

The man groaned, “J-Jin…?”

“Yeah.”

“...I died.”

“Yeah,” Jin repeated. He sounded sad. She didn’t like it when Jin sounded sad.

“What do you _mean_ we have a Driver again?!” Pack shouted.

The man didn’t react at all. Big came and helped Jin sit him down. Big would take care of everything. But it sounded like Ack needed help giving Pack a Big-sized hug.

“And I think that’s our cue,” Red Lady said, scooping her up.

“Hey!” Pack shouted, louder. Pack _slammed_ a long stick with a really big, _really_ sharp looking point at the end. “No! You don’t _touch_ her!”

“Patroka! You’ll break the floor at this rate!” Ack told Pack.

Pack twisted out from under Ack’s hand on her shoulder. “Does it look like I care?”

Red Lady didn’t seem scared, but Red Lady did shift her hold so that she was held in one arm. “If you put your weapon down, don’t break the floor, and sit down, I will not leave. But Millie is staying right where I can shield her until you can prove you won’t hurt her.”

Pack looked angry, and then scared, and then so very confused. Pack needed a Big-sized hug. ...and a nap. Naps always made things better.

“I won’t… I won’t hurt my Driver,” Pack said slowly. “I just… I just need to know if this is real! That its not some kind of torture delusion cooked up by that bastard!”

“Put down your weapon first,” Red Lady ordered.

Pack snarled, like Big would when he had to deal with the people he called dumbasses. Then Pack looked at her. She tried to sit up a bit in Red Lady’s hold and wave. Red Lady had a soft grip that didn’t let her wiggle much. Pack put the sharp stick down. And then, as Red Lady walked over, Pack sat back down in the chair Ack had picked for her.

“So much for staying on script,” Ack mumbled, fussing with his glasses. Ack had crouched down so that he could hold Pack’s hand without standing over Pack.

“They do say no plan survives first contact,” Red Lady hummed. Ack gave a funny groan. Pack kept staring at her. Without letting go, Red Lady pulled another chair away from the table, and sat in it so they both faced Pack and Ack.

Pack sat on the edge of her seat. Pack reached over – but stopped before her fingers could touch. Putting on her best big eyes (the kind Big said wouldn’t work for five hundred years), she reached out and caught Pack’s hand.

She tried to ask for a, _Big hug?_ The words stuck in her throat.

Pack looked worried. Pack’s eyes tried to flick to Ack; instead they seemed stuck.

“Millie has gone through… well. You remember that one subjugation mission involving the griffox pride muscling in to volff territory?” Ack asked.

“I remember it was ugly. We wound up wearing half the riverbed,” Pack answered softly.

“That was a cool spring day in comparison to Millie’s past six months.”

“Huh. Sucks,” Pack said.

She looked at Red Lady and then looked at Pack. Red Lady wasn’t Big and she didn’t know how to listen – but Red Lady wasn’t dumb. Red Lady gave her a, _Really?_ look. She nodded sharply.

Pack made a funny noise when Red Lady helped her crawl into Pack’s lap. It was a funny sad sound, not a funny happy sound. She hoped Pack wouldn’t have to make many sad sounds before feeling better. She wrapped her arms around Pack’s middle and gave her a big hug. It wasn’t a Big-sized hug. But she guessed it was good enough: Pack returned the hug.

“You’re real. This is real. Holy fuck this is real,” Pack said softly.

Yep. All Pack needed was a big, big, Big-sized hug. And a nap.

* * *

 

“Easy,” Jin murmured.

Mikhail groaned, “J-Jin…?”

“Yeah.”

“...I died.” Mikahil said. That lost note in his voice did not bode well.

“Yeah,” Jin confirmed. Father, if his voice got any quieter, it could double for thawed ice.

“I _died_ , Jin. I went after Indol. They’d modified their Titan using Judecium tech. They...” Mikhail gripped at his head. “I _died_. I got vaporized!”

Akhos had Patroka in hand, more or less. Pyra had his brat secure. And, yeah, this was swiftly turning into a clusterfuck. Time to get Mik’s head on straight before he lost it.

“Vaporized!” Mikhail repeated. Kid’s voice was quite; raw, in a way that was a breath from cracking. “Is this… Is this where you go when you’ve fucked up your life? A _conference room_?”

“This is where you go when you’re not dead,” Malos interrupted.

Mikhail tried to jump out of his skin and his seat. Jin’s firm grip kept Mik from doing more than yanking the chair back a quarter inch. Wide eyed, Mikhail exclaimed, “Malos?!”

“In the flesh, kid.” Malos sat on the table’s edge, crossing his arms as he moved. “Vaporized, huh?”

Mikahil nodded. Rubbing at his chest, near his Core Crystal, he looked at the floor. Out loud he said, “Y-Yeah. They got a… They hit the secondary fuel. Chain reaction. Boom.”

“Welcome to the club.” When Mikahil did an uncomprehending double take, Malos jerked his thumb towards Pyra. “That lot put paid to the Artifice I was using for Armageddon. Boom was a lot less flashy than the Monocerious going up. Still, vaporized is vaporized. Until someone – hell. Might have even been Father before he kicked the bucket. Short version? We’re _not dead_ , Mik'.”

“Then how…?” Mikhail started to ask.

“You reverted to your Core Crystal,” Malos answered, blunt.

“... _what?_ ” Mikhail hissed. “I… I couldn’t… I _can’t…_! I… I’m a _Blade Eater!_ I can’t… What?” Mikhail put his head in his hands. “What the fuck am I?”

“You’re still _you_ , Mikhail,” Jin swore, gripping Mikhail’s shoulder tight.

“ _How?_ ” Mikhail begged.

Screw it. They were going to go in circles for the next twenty _days_ at this rate.

“This. This is how,” Malos warned, snapping power into his hand.

And before Jin could get a clue, Malos moved. Breathe in and focus and reach and _reach_ –

Darkness buoyed them both before Mikhail could flip out about the change of scenery. If Malos hadn’t done some _very_ fast visual swaps the landscape would have been an even more tangled lump than looking like something out of a bookmaker’s discard bin. Bits and pieces of jumbles of piles of memories floated around Mikahil through an endless voice. Using his own mental visuals as a foundation, Malos “stepped” into Mikahil’s view.

“Welcome to the inside of your own head, Mik'.”

Mikhail looked at Malos for a second. The chaos that was his own head distracted him pretty quick. Turning slowly, Mikhail tried to take everything in.

"It's all here, Mikhail. Everything you were before Amalthus spat in your face. Everything you were as a Blade Eater of Torna. Everything you _are_ , right down to your ether signature. It's all here."

Dazed, Mikhail reached for one of the clearer and older memories. Malos tried not to pay too much attention – hard not to, when he was literally holding this together. A woman's face looked down on Mikhail with angelic familiar features.

"Mom," Mikhail breathed, his expression softening from shock to wonder. Gently, Mikhail pushed the memory back. "You're serious? Malos? About the whole _everything_ bit?"

Malos called up an ether graph. "Your ether signature last time I saw you." A flicker of will, and Malos had a second ether graph up. "Your ether signature right this second."

The two graphs were overlaid.

"Identical match," Mikhail murmured. The kid rubbed the back of his head. "So, I've gone from human, to Blade Eater, to Blade. How does this shit keep happening to me?"

"Karma," Malos deadpanned.

Mikhail stared at him. Blinked.

The network faded, reality reimposing itself to the sound of Mikhail laughing.

"Karma!" he giggled, wiping from his eyes tears made more from a release of stress than from laughing too hard. "When did you pick up a sense of humor?"

"When I picked up a toddler." Speaking of --

Standing back to his feet, Malos gave Mikhail and Jin some space and took in the room as a whole. Akhos has gotten a chair so as to sit more comfortably next to Patroka. Patroka was taking quietly – for her – asking questions. Pyra sat close enough to intervene if needed but was otherwise just a pretty fly on the wall. And his brat... Was in Patroka's lap. Of _course_.

"Brat," Malos rumbled, "we talked about this."

Millie looked the opposite of ruffled. She pantomimed rubbing tears from her eyes and then hugged Patroka around her middle.

"Patroka needs a hell of a lot more than _a hug_ ," Malos snarled.

Millie exaggerated a yawn.

"Naps don't solve everything," Malos countered.

For a toddler, Millie could pull off a decent, _You are shitting me_ , face.

"Bed," Malos ordered.

Oh, but Millie wasn't tired. Really!

"...that's a baby," Mikhail failed to whisper to Jin.

"That's Millie," Jin confirmed.

"Though she does answer to "Malos's brat" more often than her own name," Akhos quipped.

Malos had made his way to their end of the table in time to aim a smack to the back of Akhos's head. Idiot saw it coming and was out of his chair before Malos's fist could impact. The son of a volff _giggled_ at him.

"Now, now," Akhos teased.

"Maybe it's your bedtime, too, Malos?" Pyra asked innocently.

Great. Even his sister was teasing him.

Jin deliberately scraped the chair's legs against the floor as he stood. "We should head back to the guest quarters."

"Great idea!" Pyra clapped, bouncing to her feet. "I have new frozen fruit juice recipes I want you all to try!"

Millie cheered. She did her level best to tell Patroka exactly how awesome Pyra's frozen fruit treats were. Patroka asked, "Slow down! I got maybe a third of that."

Malos rolled his eyes. "Pyra's cooking is," he put air quotes around, "awesome. Even if her culinary ideas are freaking nuts. Frozen fruit juice on sticks."

"They'd flop in Tantal, but the market is really hot in Mor Ardain," Pyra giggled. Malos groaned. How. How was he related to this... this _geek_?

"Do you lot bloody even need us, or are we just supposed to stand around like holiday decorations?" Nia snapped, snapping open the door.

"You!" Patroka snarled.

Millie bat Patroka to get her attention.

"Don't fight Nia, Patroka, or she'll take away Millie's Dromarch petting permissions," Malos sighed. His brat bounced in Patroka's lap.

"I would not," Nia countered. "Though Dromarch having his paws full would make petting him a touch awkward."

"Indeed so," the Blade himself opined.

Mythra stuck her head in around Nia. "Hey. You didn't blow this place up. That's a first."

Pyra giggled. Malos snarled at the so-called comedians. Was Father drunk when he forged them?

Rex stuck his head in from the doorframe's far side. "Did I hear somebody mention those frozen fruit pops? Didja talk Jin into freezing up some more?"

Idiots. Malos was surrounded by _idiots_.

...and he wouldn't have it any other way.


	11. Lesson Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: I'm making up information about the ether out of whole cloth. Headcanon ahoy!

First day back alive, and Patroka couldn't sleep.

The bed she'd been assigned wasn't bad. Hell, it was softer than her bunk on the Monoceros. But her head would not _calm down_. Her thoughts kept chasing sleep away; kept Patroka tossing and turning. Every slight sound, every glint out the corner of her eye, made her jumpy. Architect, she wanted to _do_ something. Preferably find the source of her restlessness and kill it.

But emotions could not be killed. Patroka was shit out of luck. Oh – and the Flamebringer would flame-broil her if so so much as looked at an Ardanian funny.

Guh. Maybe she could pester them into letting her go kill monsters. Somebody somewhere always had a monster problem.

_What's that sound?_

Patroka froze, focusing every atom of her self to _listen._ The noise was dim; muffled and made faint. It was... in the same room as her? That didn't make sense. Yeah, the boys had tossed her in here due to space restrictions, but... This was Millie's room. Her... Driver's room. She was never going to get over having a Driver again --

The door opened as the sound got louder. The figure in the doorway was backlit by – ugh. Sunup already? Whoever they were, they were heading straight for the smaller bed, and for the small form therein.

"Hey!" Patroka started to protest.

"Shut up," came Malos's unforgettable snarl.

Patroka did not shut up. "What the hell, Malos?"

Malos ignored her. He walked right to the smaller bed, bent down, and picked up a fussing bundle of brat. The kid's eyes were scrunched tight; her limbs flailed, fighting off unseen attackers. Fighting for her _life_.

"Night terror," Malos explained. "Brat get 'em sometimes."

"...right," Patroka said, because she needed to say something. A faint blue light linked Malos and Millie. The blue darkened, brightening to gold, way too freaking fast.

 _That is a strong ether link,_ Patroka mused.

And then... Then Patroka caught sight of Malos's Core Crystal. Malos's _half_ of a Core Crystal. The center part of the Crystal had been scooped out. And --

"Okay. What the hell happened to that kid?" Patroka demanded rightfully. She was her Driver, too!

Malos gave her a _look_.

Patroka did not back down. "You don't just hand over half your life force without a damn good reason."

Malos sighed. "She was dying."

...okay. That? Put Akhos's evasions and partial explanations in a whole new light.

"Indol?"

Malos shook his head negative. "Different brand of idiots."

Great. Patroka asked, "They why we're on the next ship to Gormott?"

"Need some damn distance before they think trying again is a _good idea_ ," Malos confirmed.

Patroka nodded, crossing her arms and considering the angles. The brat – _her Driver_ – slowly stilled in Malos's arms. The ether link dimmed back down to a barely visible glint of blue. Yawning like nothing had happened, Millie stretched.

"Brat," Malos said hello.

And then proceeded to hold Millie upside-down, pinning her knees against his chest with one arm. His free hand promptly went to work ticking the brat's stomach. Millie screamed gleefully, trying and failing to fight Malos off.

Patroka had to admit (quietly, in her own head, and she would die before saying it out loud) – it was kinda cute. Kinda.

"Ah, the sounds of a damsel in distress." Akhos was holding up the doorframe, arms crossed loosely over his chest, and a stupid smile on his face.

Millie either screamed or tried to say something. It came out as an, _Ack!_

"Good morning," Akhos chimed, nudging up his glasses.

Malos flipped Millie so she was back right-side up. The kid giggled breathlessly, and plopped her face against Malos's cheek. There might have been a burble of attempts at words, but the sound was quiet.

"Mikhail was up before everyone," Akhos reported. "Commandeered the bathroom and now is practicing to challenge Pyra in a cook-off. Jin's keeping the collateral damage down."

"Guess that means breakfast is cooking," Malos hummed. He shifted his hold on Millie so she was more comfortable in his arms. "Come on, brat. Let's get you presentable to polite company. Should be time to eat by time you're done playing with the toothpaste."

Giggling happily, Millie let Malos take her off towards the bathroom without protest.

Patroka hesitated; Akhos lingered, reading her like a book.

"That happen a lot?" Patroka asked.

Akhos has the decency not to plead ignorance. "A few times. Usually after a major change or trauma. She says and she acts like she doesn't remember the nightmares."

"Why remember little nightmares when the biggest monster in Alrest is watching over you?" Patroka mused.

Akhos shrugged, humming noncommittally.

Patroka let the conversation die there. Shoving past Akhos, she headed for the small kitchen. He... hadn't been kidding. Tasty sausage, flatcakes, pan fried glitter spuds, toast – and that was just the stuff Patroka recognized.

From the head of a skillet, Mikhail called, "Patroka! How do you want your eggs?"

"As scrambled as your brain, Mik'," Patroka quipped.

"Sunny side up. Got-ch-yah!" As he spoke, Mikhail grabbed three eggs from a carton, cracked them into a sizzling pan, and did it all one handed without getting shells in the mix. "Still waiting for an answer, Akhos. Scrambled?"

"None, Mikhail. No eggs for Millie right now."

"Aw come on--" Mikhail started to whine. Loudly.

Akhos kept his volume low and his voice solid steel: "She weighed fifteen pounds yesterday. _No eggs_."

"Fifteen?!" Mikhail gagged. Patroka felt like gagging herself. His voice quieted. "How is she not dead?"

"Malos's Core Crystal," Patroka realized.

"Wait, seriously?" Mikhail took the pan off the heat and killed the stove.

"He copied Pyra, yes," Akhos confirmed. "It doesn't hurt she's as stubborn as Malos. Right now, she can eat very _basic_ foods. She'd maim us if we tried to take away applesauce. Those frozen fruit pops are safe. Give her system a week to catch up with her, and _then_ you can see how she likes _a_ _n_ egg. One."

"Got it, Akhos," Mikhail acknowledged, no hint of joking in his tone or posture.

"Pyra had some miso paste stored... somewhere." Akhos looked at the disaster that was the tiny kitchen.

"Already found it. It's not all used up, either," Mikhail reported, attention returning to cooking. "Also found the vegetable broth. I'll have a Millie Special whipped up in a sec."

"Pyra left a set of freeze molds," Jin added quietly.

And was he...? He totally was! Jin was blushing in embarrassment! The strongest Blade of Torna reduced to freezer duty – and he was blushing about it! Architect, who Patroka wouldn't maim for a camera.

"You done cooking the Emperor out of house and home, Mik’?" Malos drawled, arms crossed over his chest.

Millie toddled ahead of him. Sort of. She gave it up for a minute when her balance betrayed her and crawled for a good pede. Determined, she got back to her feet, and made it to Jin's shin in time to catch herself mid-fall.

Jin picked Millie up and rubbed his nose against hers. "Good morning," he said softly.

For an ice element Blade, Jin sure knew how to melt hearts.

An almost _hi_ got through.

"Ladies and gentlemen – and Malos," Mikhail joked.

"Watch it," Malos snarled.

"Breakfast orders are up!" Mikhail deftly filled plates and started passing them out. "Here's yours, Malos – the rest is on the counter; they don't make plates big enough for your full order. And Akhos, Patroka, Jin, and --"

Mikhail made a show of taking a bowl of lightly steaming broth, a jar of applesauce as big as his head, and two spoons over to Millie.

"For the Driver, special order soup and sauce."

"Make sure she doesn't paint with the applesauce," Malos requested, tucking in.

Oh Architect. Millie looked downright _devious_. Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth, and armus were flying north for the summer. Patroka was going to _like_ this little Driver of hers.

"Drink your soup," Jin asked. "It tastes better warm."

Millie hummed an affirmative. Seated pretty as you please in Jin's lap, she carefully spooned some of the soup into her mouth. Some of it sloshed onto her chin; Jin handed her a napkin without comment. And _someone_ had taught her table manners! Must have been Akhos.

"Travel arrangements are finalized?" Akhos asked in between flatcakes and non-frozen juice.

"The last of the paperwork is clearing the Special Inquisitor's desk today," Jin confirmed. Without looking like he was paying attention, Jin kept Millie from spilling applesauce across the table. Millie gave him a look shouting she wasn't fooled – and had no intention to surrender.

"Azurda said something about putting together lesson plans even I couldn't screw up," Malos mentioned, passing Jin a pitcher of juice. Which just _coincidentally_ knocked Millie's lidded juice cup at a dangerous angle, sending the brat scrambling to keep it up. The overloaded spoon of applesauce tipped back into the applesauce jar.

Patroka hid a smile behind a fork full of eggs. The brat was just too cute. Strike that. Watching the whole procession that was making sure Millie didn't paint with food was _hilarious_.

"We're on speaking terms with Azurda?" Mikhail asked. He was not subtle about watching Jin sabotage applesauce painting efforts.

"We're on speaking terms with all of them," Malos confirmed.

"That must have been an interesting conversation," Patroka fished.

"We had no choice but to negotiate. Applesauce was held hostage. As were fluffies." Akhos's grin was a shade too sharp. "Remind me to tell you the story involving a pipitto, a Titan cannon, and crackers."

Oh _damn._ That sounded good.

Millie ate her applesauce and pouted, conceding defeat. For now.

"Mik’, you and Patroka get babysitting duty," Malos assigned them.

"The only babe around here is," Mikhail started, leering towards Patroka.

Akhos beaned Mikhail upside the head.

Malos didn't miss a beat: "You're both with me. We're picking up Azurda's so-called foolproof lesson plans, then hitting the markets for supplies. Brat, your job is to keep them out of trouble. Good luck. You're gonna need it."

Millie accepted the assignment with all the solemness a toddler could.

"I presume Jin and I are going to be meeting with the Special Inquisitor?" Akhos inquired. At Jin's nod and Malos's grunt affirmative, Akhos exaggerated a sigh. "Paperwork."

Patroka sipped her cup of juice. Human governments were evil; the paperwork proved it. What else was new?

"Two questions." Mikhail rolled out one finger. "Who's paying for the shopping trip?"

"The Special Inquisitor," Jin answered. And narrowed his eyes at Patroka and Mikhail. "Do not overspend."

"Budget, budget, right." Mikhail waived off concern to hold up a second finger. "Shopping list. Got one?"

"Millie's selection of outfits isn't. A selection," Akhos clarified. "You're looking at the entirety of her wardrobe."

Mikhail looked Millie over. One shirt with bright stains all down it, and a pleated skirt two sizes too big. The top, Patroka realized, was the same one Millie had slept in. Just went to prove human or Blade: All men were slobs.

"...yeah, we're gonna need to fix that," Mikhail agreed.

"Give her half a second, and she'll buy every stuffed toy she lays hands on," Malos warned.

Jin hummed, "She has a volff."

"A stuffed volff. We are not getting you a live one, brat. Stuffed pets _only_ ," Malos emphasized. Millie did not appear discouraged.

Patroka considered looking into... acquiring... a beast Blade. She dismissed it immediately. First, Jin would frown at her, and _that_ was a fate worse than death. Second, a beast Blade would ultimately cramp their style. Third, beast Blade's weren't common. Fourth, they usually had attitudes. Case in point: Dromarch. That much unwavering devotion was just... sickly. Uck.

"And expect to be ambushed," Malos was saying; Patroka zoned back in belatedly. "Not Indol. Not yet, anyway. My _sisters_ and their merry band of nuts are making it a habit to play escort without an invitation."

Mikhail blinked, mouthing the word _sisters._ "Architect," he breathed. "We really _are_ on speaking terms with them now."

"We have a list." At Mikhail's blink, Akhos elaborated, "A list of absolutely insane things that have happened since since the whole World Tree incident. Rex and his associates don't make the top five."

"...I am terrified yet intrigued," Mikhail admitted. Patroka kept her mouth shut. Akhos wouldn't bring it up if –

"I'll show you the copy later," Akhos offered on cue.

"Right." Malos planted his hands firmly on the table to recapture attentions. "Everyone done?" Various assorted affirmatives, even from Millie, who put the lid back on the applesauce jar. (Or tried to; Jin helped.) "Then let's do the damn dishes and get this wreck of a day started."

* * *

 

Maybe it was because he was back from the dead. Maybe it was because Blades had sharper senses than (mostly) human Blade Eaters. Whatever the reason, Mikhail felt like everything was... poking at him.

Colors _felt_ sharper. The light picked up every shadow, every scrap of darkness, and made it sing. The world around him was doing an old samba; one of the _old_ , old ones, lost with one of the smaller continental Titans before Mikhail had been born. The air was crisp with scents and sounds.

If he didn't have Millie in his arms, her weight acting like an anchor, Mikhail would have been lost in it all. He would have been right out there in the center of the storm, dancing to the world's tune.

 _I should teach Millie to dance,_ Mikhail decided.

Balance, coordination, footwork, rhythm – all of that was critical for dance and for blade work. Or _Blade_ work, in this case. And it'd be a fun skill to fall back on. Never knew when a party invite might strike an Aegis's Driver.

...that was a big head. That was a big head _right in his face_.

"Shit!" Mikhail exclaimed elegantly, holding tight to Millie and scrambling back. Patroka was no help whatsoever, doubled over laughing. Malos loudly sighed.

"Hum," hummed the massive head. It maneuvered around him, studying him. Probably wasn't going to eat him or Malos would have stepped in. Still. Those were... a lot of teeth. The head's eyes crinkled. "Now that I've got a second look at you, I must say, you do look... familiar. Mikhail, was it?"

Mikhail nodded.

"Hum," went the head. The head jolted up like a startled armu. "No. You _can't_ be. He was just a child. It's been _five hundred years._ He and his children's children would all be dead! You... You can't be _Lora_ 's little tag along!"

Mikhail felt a blush creeping up. Architect. No one had called him Lora's little tag along since Addam's camp.

"Titan's _foot_." The head lowered back down. "What happened to you, child? I had thought you lost with old Torna."

"Amalthus happened," Malos answered.

"Would that didn't explain quite so much," bemoaned the head. They leaned back, out of Mikhail's comfort zone. "Come aboard, then. We have much to discuss, and I have no wish to discuss it where I'm being ogled like spare parts."

A group of Ardainian solders studiously started moving about their business.

Patroka stepped closer to Mikhail as they moved towards the Titan's back. "This is Azurda? I thought he was... small. Fluffy. You know, brat hugging size."

"Guess he had a growth spurt?" Mikhail shrugged.

"You both are truly a laugh a minute," said the Titan.

Mikhail and Patroka both shut up.

Pushing off from the dock, the Titan made a leisurely pace away from the Imperial Palace. And what was immediately apparent was that – this _wasn't_ the Cloud Sea.

"I didn't know Mor Ardain had a lake near Alba Cavanich," Mikhail said conversationally.

"They don't," Malos corrected.

Patroka and Mikhail exchanged looks.

Leaning against the rocky rim that bracketed the Titan's back, Malos sighed. "I don't know exactly what happened. Pyra and Mythra were too busy trying to stop me to ask questions. From what we can figure out, before he died, Father... altered the Cloud Sea."

"Altered how?" Patroka asked.

"The depth level, for one," answered the Titan. "It still acts like it used to from time to time. Clouds will roll in with the tide. It's not as forceful as it used to be, though. More like a _suggestion_ than a commanding current. It still breaks down the old and the lost, but at a much slower rate. It's also salty."

"Salty," Patroka repeated.

"Quite," said the Titan.

Mikhail nodded. And froze as Malos's words caught up. "The Architect is _dead_?!"

"Yeah." Malos did not look gleeful about it. "He... he was a guy, Mik’. Like you and me. Not some kind of holy man. Not some awesome and terrible power. Just another person who made mistakes and... failed to fix them."

"He was also very old, and so very tired," mused the Titan. Shaking his head, the Titan looked at them. "Let us put aside such depressing conversations for now, hum? If one of you could be so kind as to fetch the purple and gold lacquered box from the lean-to, we'll get started."

Getting started on _what_ became immediately obvious once Malos opened up the box in question. The lesson plans that had been discussed over breakfast were put into practice, as Millie, sitting in Malos's lap, concentrated. Mikhail felt part of his heart shattering when how smart Millie was impact the reality that she _could not_ talk.

"Weaknesses of the self are there to be overcome. And if they cannot be overcome, to be worked around and turned into strengths. You and your family will work together on turning the Salvager's Code of hand signals into a tool fitting your circumstances, and show it to me when next we meet," the Titan ordered calmly.

Millie wanted to punch something. Malos looked like he was right there with her, even as he tried to soothe her frustrations. Hell, _Mikhail_ wanted to punch something just watching. This just... wasn't _fair._

"You will keep up your lessons with Jin, I trust? Malos coddles you too much, you know."

Millie shook her head negative.

"Indeed he does," the Titan countered. "Malos carries a great burden. But like all great burdens, the effort of carrying through is well worth the reward. Now." The Titan tipped his head, visually setting the lessons aside. "My understanding from what Rex was and wasn't saying yesterday was that you needed to get the lot of you away from prying eyes."

Malos took a deep breath. "Yeah." To Millie he asked, "You alright watching stuff get blown up?"

Millie considered it, and then nodded affirmative.

"Right. Sit with Patroka for a bit. I need my hands free for this."

Getting up on her own, Millie toddled over to Patroka. The female Blade met her halfway, scooping her up and heading for the shack. She had her head bent near Millie's ear and was whispering something; probably encouragement for how smart she was even if she couldn't get words to cooperate. Though Patroka was paying enough attention to catch the lesson box wen Malos threw it to her for safe keeping.

"Get your weapons," Malos ordered.

"Huh?" Not what Mikhail had thought would happen next.

"I said--"

Darkness surged. Mikhail staggered under the force of it, feeling it like a physical blow. The light of the world was sucked away and yet, somehow, that made everything _clear_. Malos was moving – Mikhail could _see_ him moving – through the dark. Drawing on that darkness Malos formed his weapon and –

Time snapped back to regular speed. The clarity of that aching, brilliant darkness seeped into him. Surrounded him, blocking _with_ him to keep Malos's sword from impacting his skull.

"Titan's _shin_ what was that?" Mikhail asked, gasping for breath.

"Thought so." Malos let up, stepping back. "Blades channel more ether than you're used to."

"It was... dark. And _clear._ And..." Mikhail shoved his right hand through his hair; he spread his left hand out, hunting for words. "And nice."

Architect, that sounded so lame.

"Dark, huh. Like this?"

Malos did... _something_... that caused darkness to surge against Mikhail again. It filled him with its brilliance, drowning out all the little things that could distract him.

 _Like listening to stars,_ Mikhail thought absently, breathing in. His whole body felt full of energy. Architect, he – he wanted to _dance_ with it. The rhythm was _there_ , and so _clear_ , and… And it stayed that clear, even when Malos quit doing whatever he had done.

"Pay attention, brat. Going to quiz you later," Malos warned – and giving Mikhail time to find his center again. "Blades draw ether from their element. They can convert ambient atmospheric ether to their element, but it's not efficient. An Aegis can generate their own ether – and discharge it."

Oh. So Malos had just –

"Forgive an old man his curiosity," the Titan interrupted, "and you, child, may tell me to stick my nose in a reef if I overstep. What, as precisely as you know, did Amalthus do to you?"

"Experimental Blade Eater," Mikhail answered honestly. Five hundred years made it easier to talk about. Not easy... but easier.

"Oh? I don't recall you having a Blade, sans the one Mythra vanquished."

...okay. Now it was hard to talk about. "The Blade wasn't... awake when he..." He couldn't. The memories hurt too damn much.

"Every time I think the depth of that man's perversions had been plunged," the Titan sighed. "Yes. No wonder you're utterly off-kilter in your own element."

"You _mind_ , Azurda?" Malos snarled.

"Perhaps you'd like to go for a swim, Malos," Azurda mused.

"You wouldn't," Malos dared.

Mikhail's only warning was a _pressure_ against that oh so comforting darkness. Drawing into himself like Jin had taught him was so freaking easy now. Didn't have to concentrate beyond _I need this piece of myself real!_ And his weapons were snug in his grip in time to knock a fireball off into the Cloud Sea.

The singing of darkness pulled him in, and Mikhail gave himself to the dance.

* * *

 

Flopped like a dead man on Azurda's back, Mikhail looked like even his hair was exhausted. He had the stupidest grin on his face to go with his dwindling chuckles of laughter.

...and yeah, Malos could admit it. That _had_ been a fun diversion.

The brat had toddled over once the fireworks had stopped. She had taken one look at Mikhail, then thrown herself over his chest in a rag doll imitation. Mikhail has stirred long enough to move Millie into a more comfortable lump by his side, her head pillowed on his chest. Since then, he hadn't bothered to do more than twitch. At some point during the swim back, the brat had decided now was the perfect time for a nap.

Maybe Malos could drop them both off at the palace. Jin wasn't a fan of large crowds; he could babysit. Or Malos could himself. Given what had happened last time, Patroka and Akhos going unsupervised in a market was a fast _hell no._

"Mik’ is alright, right?" Patroka asked quietly. Malos waited for the inevitable. "I mean, it's not like I care. Just need to know what slack to pick up."

Yeah. Patroka didn't care. And Amalthus was a genuine saint.

"He'll be fine."

Probably better now than he had been the first time around. Amalthus had been playing Architect with tech Father had spent decades researching before implementing. That Mikhail had survived those experiments in as good a condition as he had said a hell of a lot more about Mik’ then it did about Amalthus's scientific rigor.

Delicately feeling at the ether, Malos quit feeding darkness element ether into the area. Mikhail was satiated. Finally. Didn't make sense that he'd be ether starved... unless Blade Eater's base levels of ether were closer to humans? But he was a Blade now. He should have started at a near full charge. Damn it... This was going to eat at Malos until he had an answer.

"How far from port, Azurda?" Malos demanded.

"Not long. Not long," Azurda hummed. "You can see the docks coming into view."

Malos stepped up to the ridge by Azurda's neck. True to Azurda's word, the palace and it's town were in clear view. The docks looked different at this --

"You're not heading to the palace," Malos pointed out.

"I have exceeded my tolerance of being measured for implants," Azurda stated primly. "Besides. Anagham Docks are closer to the marketplace than the palace. Not to mention, a little bird told me a shipment of clothing is coming on a Guild vessel in from Argentum. You can get a good deal if the Nopon are in the mood."

Great. _Bartering_. And currently the only member of their group who could haggle worth a damn was out of it.

"Somebody say deal?" Mikhail's voice floated over.

...of course he'd get it together for _shopping_.

"Nopon merchants offloading wares for transport to Alba Cavanich," Malos reported. Looking over his shoulder, he could see Mikhail hadn't moved. Well, he'd moved his hand to rub circles along Millie's back. So far as actually getting up, it looked like Mikhail hadn't bothered.

"Oooh. If they don't already have an escort lined up, we can talk them into shaving off a couple percents by playing yojimbo."

"Only if I get to kill something," Patroka demanded.

"That's at the discretion of the monsters, my dear Patroka."

Father. Not even two days and Mikhail was already back to flirting. _Badly_ flirting. Maybe Malos should do what Akhos had joked about: Throw the two in a locked closet and wait. ...no, then Malos would wind up with an exploded closet and both of them out for a pound of his flesh.

"I'll be pulling into dock presently. Do be sure you have the lesson box when you disembark," Azurda reminded.

"Patroka?"

"Got it, Malos," the earth Blade confirmed.

"I know I make a great pillow, Millie, but it's time to get moving," Mikhail softly warned. The brat stirred but did not wake. "Come on, then," Mikhail picked her up, shifting her to his shoulder as he stood, "time to get up."

Millie mumbled something in her dreams, but did not wake. Not too unusual, but...

Malos put his hand to his Core Crystal and _focused_. The data exchange between the two halves was running without error. Analyzing that data turned up an oddball discrepancy or two (he'd run those past Akhos later) but nothing outside the norm. Just a tired brat recovering from one ugly kidnapping attempt.

"You need your hands free to haggle?" Malos asked.

"It'd be helpful to check quality," Mikhail confirmed. But he also looked just fine with the idea of hanging onto the brat for a while longer.

Malos found himself smiling; tried to smother it with a scowl. Yes, he liked the idea of his brat having all of Torna wrapped around her little finger. Gave her more security against Indoline _asshats_. (...okay, _yes_ , it was also too cute. Like hell Malos was going to admit it!)

"Oh?" rumbled Azurda.

"Oh?" Malos echoed, turning to look towards port. "What – Oh."

"Malos?" Patroka asked.

"Jin and Akhos are waiting for us at the dock. Looks like Dromarch and Nia got drafted to babysit – sorry. _Escort_ – our sorry asses."

"Shit luck for them."

"Don't antagonize them much, Patroka."

Patroka gave Malos a look.

"Fluffies," Malos countered. Even asleep, the very word was enough to get a giggle out of Millie.

Patroka huffed, "That is not fair." Mikhail did not help by chuckling. At least Patroka kept to pouting rather than maiming.

"Hail and well met, travelers!" Akhos exaggerated a wave. He kept going as they filed off Azurda's back: "Have we tales of monsters slain and pirates beguiled? Dreams of doubloons or treasure booty to be scoured?

"Screw you, Akhos," Patroka greeted in kind, punching Akhos in the arm.

"Here, Jin, you hold her for a bit. She's drooling," Mikhail warned.

Jin took the brat, headless of the slobber. Or... not? Jin had picked up a cloth that matched his jacket somewhere, and set the folded cloth on his shoulder before pillowing Millie's head on it. Combination pillow and drool catcher. There was a faint fussy complaint lodged; Millie was back down for the count once Jin found a comfortable hold. Jin pat her back in an absentminded soothing gesture.

Mikhail rubbed his hands together gleefully as he took in the port. "Point me at those Nopon. Ah- _ha!_ "

Malos could almost feel sorry for the merchants. Almost.

"Titan's foot. It's like watching Rex go after salvager gear," Nia sighed, one hand pressed to her forehead to stave off a headache.

"I trust things went well?" Dromarch cordially inquired. "The vessel for Gormott departs tonight with the tide."

"It was _fine_ ," Patroka snarled.

Nia took a step out of range. "Yeash. No need to bite our heads off, Patroka. We all know Millie and words don't mix well through no fault of 'er own."

" _How_ much?!" Mikhail's outraged voice floated over.

"Oh, that's a swell start to a barter," Nia quipped, taking it as refuge to get further out of Patroka's firing line.

"It's a basic staple!" Mikhail was protesting, pointing at the item in question. "Salvagers pull up more of these per dive than anything else this time of year!"

"Has friend been living under rock?" the pink Nopon demanded.

"No, but he did just get awakened yesterday," Nia cut in.

The Nopon bounced, "Meh-meh-meh?!" They took a closer look at Mikhail. "So friend Blade who wakey-wakey yesterday? Not swindler?

Malos crossed his arms to keep from snarking. Right _now_ Mikhail was trying to do an honest trade. But not a swindler? Ha!

"Ah," the Nopon nodded sagely, "friend not know about New Elysium and how Titans not work like old way. Can forgive friend not knowing. But still, price is price. Take or leave."

"Leave," Mikhail decided firmly. "What's your cloth look like?"

"Cloth is moth silk! Best in all Alrest!"

Patroka kept her voice down as Mikhail and the Nopon started dickering about bolts of cloth. "What did he mean, the Titans aren't...?"

"All the continent sized Titans merged with the old continent to become one ginormous landmass," Nia swiftly explained.

"The Titans themselves did not die, per say, but they are assuredly not alive as we know it," Dromarch added. "Their functions continue unimpeded. Slowed, perhaps. But there is no risk of degradation. Mor Ardain has been at the forefront of studying the effects, for... obvious reasons."

"Old continent?" Jin demanded.

"Morytha," Dromarch confirmed quietly.

Jin went stiff, his right hand protectively cradling Millie's head. "So. That _is_ where they got that monster."

"Your guess is good as ours on how," Nia tacked on. "But yeah. That's where for sure."

" _Now_ you're being reasonable!" Mikhail crowed. To them, Mikhail demanded, "Who's turn was it to hold the wallet?"

"Get your nickers out of a twist, would you, Mikhail?" Nia demanded, heading for Mikhail and – huh. Some of those outfits didn't look too bad. "Don't spend it all on one thing, alright? We have to lug whatever you buy back to Jakalo's ourselves."

"Right, right," Mikhail waived her off, looking through the surrendered wallet. Satisfied, he turned back to the Nopon. "Now. You were saying about those sun dresses?"

* * *

 

There was a knock upon her office door.

Capping her fountain pen, Mòrag cleared her desk of all sensitive material. One folder was left in plain view. Brighid likewise set the stage by leaving her own desk to stand at Mòrag’s right hand. “Enter,” Mòrag ordered.

An Army Driver entered. They and their Blade closed the door behind them before stepping up before Mòrag’s desk. The Blade seemed cool, moving with composure in time with his Driver to salute. The Diver held their stiff posture longer than regulations dictated. In a clear voice, the Driver announced: “Reporting as ordered, Special Inquisitor, ma’am!”

“At ease,” Mòrag ordered. Stiff as though under the drill Sargent's eye, the Driver and Blade stood at parade rest. “Driver Jac. Blade Yachink. I wish first to offer my thanks for your prompt response to my summons.”

“Our honor, Special Inquisitor,” Blade Yachink spoke up when his Driver floundered.

“While you are entitled to one week rest before being redeployed with Unit Five Six Four, there is a time sensitive matter to which I will require your assistance.”

While those helmets did protect soldiers from the worst effects of Mor Ardain’s climate, they made getting a read on the rank-and-file needlessly difficult. Were it not for the stammered, “M-Me?” Mòrag would have had to take a blind guess at Driver Jac’s reaction.

“What is your opinion of the Blade identified as Logos?” Brighid inquired. When Driver Jac did not immediately answer, Brighid gestured to the folder on Mòrag’s desk. “The reports of his time with Five Six Four are clear. The Blade barely tolerated the company of others – except for you and Yachink.”

“D-Due to the unique circumstances of the situation,” Yachink started.

“Yes. He was deeply concerned about his Driver. Rightly so,” Brighd concurred.

“Logos seemed… lost, ma’am,” Driver Jac said hesitantly.

“Lost?” Mòrag repeated.

Buoyed by Mòrag’s inquiry, Driver Jac continued, “Aye, ma’am. I put it down to the circumstances Logos and his Driver were found in. But that… wasn’t the only thing. I got the feeling he’d lost… He’d lost a lot, ma’am. Lost so much he had nary a clue on what to do, ‘side from putting one foot ‘front the other.”

“An accurate summation.” Mòrag tapped the folder.

“Permission to make an inquiry, ma’am?” Driver Jac dared.

“Go on,” Mòrag allowed.

“Logos is… really the Praetor’s Aegis. Ain’t he.” Driver Jac rushed on, “I took the Aegis War as my elective in training, ma’am. The amethyst Core Crystal is the sign of the Dark Aegis. The one Praetor Amalthus claimed was his sin. And it… well… I can’t think of a scenario where someone would be more lost than an Aegis after the events of last year.” He added a belated, “ma’am,” when the silence drug thick.

“I trust you have not shared your conclusions with anyone else?” Mòrag inquired. If she had a true read on Driver Jac’s character, than the answer would be –

“No, ma’am.”

Mòrag nodded, her suspicions confirmed. Not that a such a trivial thing would make this assignment any less of a burden.

“Aegis Malos, his current Driver, and his companions will be leaving tonight aboard the Titan battleship _White Whale_ for Gormot. From there, their destination is unknown. Where an Aegis goes, so too goes the world’s power. That, is an unfortunate fact which recent events have made plain.” Mòrag gave the folder a final tap. “Driver Jac and Blade Yachink. As Special Inquisitor, I hereby order you to attach yourselves to Aegis Malos’s group. You shall assist when and how you are able in the manner you see fit. Once their final port of call has been established, you will develop very selective amnesia until such time as you can report their safe-haven to myself in person. You shall carry with you a verified seal of my office that shall contain a written copy of orders to escort and assist persons known to be allies of the Emperor. You shall keep it on your person at all times.

“Are these orders understood?”

“P-Permission to --”

“The severity of the mission grants some leeway with protocol. You need not ask further permission to speak or request clarification, Driver Jac,” Mòrag allowed.

“Ma’am.” Driver Jac swallowed. “Are you… Are you asking me to _spy on them_ , ma’am?”

“In so many words,” Mòrag allowed.

“If you can write reports in code, all the better,” Brighid quipped.

“We are still very green, ma’am,” Blade Yachink pointed out.

“Given the current political climates, both domestic and abroad, inexperience is an asset,” Mòrag assured them.

“You’re also on the short list of people Malos is least likely to stab,” Brighid noted. “That alone gives you greater qualifications for this mission than the entirety of our Intelligence Division.”

It took the duo a lengthy beat longer to absorb their assignment. At length Driver Jac asked, “Were you serious about writing in code?”

“You know Intelligence ciphers?” Brighid asked.

“No, ma’am. Old written Gormotti. Me mum was an amateur historian before… Well, before. She taught me old Gormotti. Its not used much outside what’s left of the nobility.”

“I myself do not know it, but I do know someone who may be willing to assist. Insure you do not place any information too sensitive behind so feeble a cipher.” Mòrag waited for the boy to salute. “Report to the _White Whale_ at twenty hundred hours. Be sure to be in civilian attire. Your cover for getting aboard will be that you have been granted special dispensation to take your leave in Torigoth. Any further questions?”

Silence.

Mòrag pressed the folder forward, and along with it the aforementioned seal of her office. Driver Jac stepped forward, claimed them, then stepped back.

“Dismissed.”

Driver Jac and his Blade saluted. Neat as on a parade field, Driver Jac and Blade Yachink executed an about face, and marched out her office door.

“This will end… interestingly,” Brighid prognosticated.

Sighing, Mòrag forced her attention back to urgent matters. Now, where had she filed that report regarding the examination of Steam Pipe Factory # 2, and the anti-Imperials found therein….


	12. Departure and Arrival

Slowly. Malos was going to kill Mikhail _slowly_. And he was going to do it as soon as Mikhail put his brat down.

Malos had told him, clearly, do _not_ buy everything. Do not buy so much shit it becomes a pain to lug it around. So what had Mikhail done? Buy enough crap, they had to buy a trunk to hold it all. A Father cursed _trunk_. Damn thing was big enough _Malos_ could fit in it.

...the sun dresses Mikhail had snagged _were_ cute. Even if a bunch of them were too big now, Malos yielded to the fact brats _did_ grow up. They'd need outfits that fit her, later.

"Titan ships are way different than cannon units," Mikhail was avidly explaining. The brat's eyes were huge and she was clinging hard. "That's why it's even more important you stick with one of us. 'Course _you'd_ never get under their feet on purpose. But they got a low tolerance for things out of the ordinary, and a lot of them are... grumpy."

Millie nodded. Then she pointed out into the blue. Puffs of clouds skittered along a cresting wave.

"The Cloud Sea," Mikhail answered, launching without further prompting into an explanation.

Akhos pulled up a bulkhead next to where Malos was spy-- _observing_ his brat. The healer pushed up his glasses. "You do realize both Jin and Mikhail are conspiring to introduce Millie to tea parties?"

...oh Father. _Tea parties_. Malos suppressed a shudder.

"How do you prefer your tea, Malos? One lump of sugar?" Akhos teased.

Malos growled, "I'll give them _both_ lumps if they try to drag me into one of those things."

" _They_ won't," Akhos predicted, smirking.

"Arg," Malos groaned. How to say _no_ to his brat was something Malos was going to have to work on. There was going to be pouting, and _that_ face, and – guh.

"Oi, there you lot are."

Looking away from disasters to come, Malos looked towards the sound an an exasperated Nia. The Flesh Eater in disguise had her hands on her hips in feline frustration.

"Been lookin' all over this behemoth for ya. They're about to cast off, and want us stowaways stowed in our cabins out from under their feet. Besides," Nia ran her hand over her ear, "they get a might twitchy when they realize they got folks aboard who don't know how to swim."

.... _fuck._

"There's a quiet spot near Torigoth I can show ya," Nia promised.

Because Millie learning how to swim beat Millie drowning, even if both options caused unfamiliar dread to curl in Malone's gut.

"Wot's that? You already know how to swim?" Nia asked.

Millie nodded her head emphatically.

"Be that as it may, the Cloud Sea is a might bit bigger than a bathtub. Sooner we're out from under foot, sooner they let us to the mess, sooner you get your applesauce."

Millie considered Nia's logic. Leaning back to get a better look at Mikhail, she tilted her head in a clear question.

"Think we've got windows," Mikhail confirmed. "Besides, even if we don't, they're not going to keep us locked up for the whole trip."

Malos bit down a derisive snort. If they so much as tried, they'd get holes put in their pretty little boat as fast as Malos could make them.

"Let's get moving, then," Nia ordered, attempting to heard them into the ship's bowels.

* * *

 

The cabins they'd been given were practically huge given how space was a luxury on ships. Two sets of bunk beds, one pair on either side of the room, with enough space between two people could stand side-by-side. They'd be squished, but they could do it. At the head of the room, furthest from the door, there was barely enough space to stash Millie's trunk so long as it was stood up on its side.

Jin, Mikhail, Akhos, and Malos had been stuffed into one cabin. Nia, Patroka, Millie, and Dromarch took the cabin directly next to theirs. (Dromarch was allowed with the girls by dint of his discretion. And also because if any more room was taken in the men's cabin, Malos would kill someone.)

Jin was in the men's cabin when Nia successfully wrangled them back. The ice Blade was sitting on the lower right bunk, pillow between his skull and the bulkhead, reading a book bigger than his head. Patroka sat across from him on the lower left side, entertaining herself by checking her weapon.

"Millie and me are going to commandeer your bunk, Patroka my sweet," Mikhail warned. Patroka growled a question without looking up. "They won't let us watch the ship leave from the deck."

"Ugh. Fine. But I'll know who to maim if boot prints wind up on my sheets," Patroka warned.

"We'll be neat, right?" Mikhail asked Millie. The brat giggled affirmative. Thus set, Mikhail carried Millie off to watch a bunch of water.

Nia stretched and yawned. "Cat nap for me, I think. Wonder where Dromarch wondered off to?"

Akhos adjusted his glasses. "He found interesting company."

Malos followed Akhos's look down the hall. A familiar common Blade was walking next to Dromarch, the two chatting companionably. Behind them, looking a touch bemused, was a Gormotti male in civilian attire. An oddity aboard -- wait a second.

"Jac? Yachink?" Malos blurted.

Yeah... That was Jac. Almost unrecognizable outside of full body Ardanian soldier gear. The Gormotti's ears perked, and he waived hello as he caught sight of Malos and Akhos.

"Logos. Akhos. Could we talk?" Jac inquired with polite but nervous neutrality.

Nia twitched. "Logos...?" Shaking her head, she stated, "Nope. That sounds like Aegis crap. Had more than enough ah that to last twenty lifetimes. I am getting a bloody nap while I still can."

Determined, she marched into the girls' cabin. Dromarch and Yachink – after a pause to check with his Driver – followed behind her. Jac looked like he wanted to follow. Steeling himself, he walked into the men's cabin behind Malos.

"Jin. Patroka. Jac," Malos introduced. "He saved Millie's life."

"Huh," judged Patroka.

Jin put his book down. "Thank you."

"Anybody would ah done the same," Jac replied. He rubbed the back of his head behind his ears in a nervous twitch. "Whoever did your wanted posters needs a refresher in drawing."

The door shut tight courtesy of Akhos.

"Shit," Malos sighed. To save Jac or not to save Jac...

"Torna, ya? Fits." Jac took breath; let it out in a sigh. "Official reason I'm on this boat is to take leave back home in Torigoth."

"And the unofficial reason?" Akhos asked.

"The _other_ official reason is Special Inquisitor Ladair wants me to spy on you lot. Help you find a safe place to set down roots. Then pick up very select amnesia – her words, mind – until I can report back to her in person with where your home base is."

It took a second for it all to register given Jac had tossed it out in a rush.

"You're a crap spy," Patroka pointed out.

"I prefer breathing," Jac quipped. That won an amused snort from Patroka.

"Why you?" Jin asked.

Jac rubbed his ear. "The Special Inquisitor said I was the least likely to get killed on sight."

"True. We _do_ owe you," Akhos hummed. "But that then begs the question: Why send a spy at all?"

"Where the Aegis goes, so goes the power of the world, 's wot the Inquisitor said." Jac shrugged, harmless and helpless.

Malos slapped his palm against his face in a heartfelt, "Crap."

Jac looked torn between being too tired to be scared, and sympathy for the devil. "You really are the Aegis."

" _An_ Aegis," Malos corrected.

"The Praetor's Aegis," Jac amended.

Malos had to yank his power back under control, fast. Even then the spurt of rage singed the ceiling. " _I am not that bastard's anything!_ "

To his credit, or to point to his madness, Jac did not flinch nor step away. He held his peace until Malos wasn't quite so visibly infuriated.

"You're the Architect's Master Blade. One of them," Jac corrected himself. "And shocking as it sounds, I do still have some faith in the Architect _and_ his mortal instruments. Yah. Even the Praetor. He went right round the bend... but you can't say he didn't do some good, too."

"Nowhere near enough to balance the scales," Malos snarled.

"Maybe that's why the Architect sent you back to Alrest," Jac suggested.

Patroka burst out laughing, inadvertently saving Jac's life. "What the crap?" she demanded around giggles. "How the hell do we keep running into naive idiots like this?"

There was a muted _boom boom boom_ as a fist pounded on the sealed door. Mikhail's voice drifted through: "Guys?"

Akhos opened the door without looking at Jac, or at anyone else.

Malos's focus narrowed down: _Brat. My brat. My brat crying_.

And he was moving before thought could catch up. Stepping into the hall where he could breathe, Malos plucked Millie from Mikhail's arms. Holding her close and tight, he rested his forehead against hers. This close, Malos could feel the brat's half of his Core Crystal thrumming with his unspent fury. Drawing that energy back was... actually not that hard. And it hadn't hurt his brat, thankfully.

His brat was trying to ask a question. Malos could guess what.

"I'm fine."

 _Yeah,_ Millie's look snarked, _and crackers taste like applesauce._

"Yes, I'm pissed off," Malos admitted softly. From Millie's look, he... he knew he had to explain. "Some asshat did something stupid an idiotically long time ago. I don't like being reminded of it."

Small arms wrapping around his neck felt like safety; like hope; like... Like coming back bloody and sore and snarking with Mikhail and trading jabs with Akhos and sparring with Patroka and standing in Jin's shadow.

It felt like home.

 _Will_ not _burst into sobs in the middle of the hallway on a damn Ardanian ship,_ Malos told himself fiercely.

"Think I need a nap," Malos forced himself to say.

"Don't get boot prints on my sheets," Patroka ordered.

Or in common: _Go take a nap you old fart and quit scaring the baby._

Deliberately, Malos headed for the girls' room. Without comment to Nia (who was awake for all she was pretending to be oblivious), Malos set himself down on Patroka's claimed bed. Laid down, careful to wrap himself around Millie – who was clinging so tight she wouldn't let go without loosing a limb first – so that his brat wasn't squished. Breathing slowly, Malos closed his eyes.

And if tears leaked through – well. Millie wouldn't tell.

* * *

 

The mess was exactly it's namesake: A mess. The captain had required they eat on the off hours. The food was palatable even if it was cold; frankly, they'd all had worse. There was no applesauce to be had, nor would there be until they got to Torigoth and made their own. The necessary ingredients were a luxury unaffordable aboard a ship.

Jac set down his utensils. Noisily.

"When I said I believed in the Architect, I wasn't talkin' about the man. To be clear about it."

Nia's eyes went wide. She tried to subtly scoot away, seeing as she was seated at the outside edge of the bench. Dromarch leaned forward to aid in her escape.

"Excuse me?" Malos snarled.

"Way I saw it, if the Architect were a god, he wouldah done something about wars, 'nd death. Anything to get his design back straight. 'Cept in all ah history he didn't lift a finger."

Why was it so damn hard for Malos to look away from Jac's stare? The kid was barely older than Rex! Malos could break him with one finger.

But he... couldn't look away as Jac pressed on.

"Meant, then, he was a man. Same as any other, I guessed. But the _concepts_ the Architect stood for: Compassion, hope, all that fluffy stuff the world seems to wanna forget. I still believe in _that_. The people who preach it aren't saints. And yes, some are right bastards. But I won't break faith in what we – what _Alrest_ – put upon the Architect's shoulders."

A cold hand pressed against the middle of Malos’s back. A much smaller, warmer hand fumbled for his knee. Shifting slightly, Malos took his brat from Jin’s lap without breaking eye contact with Jac. Even after the transfer Jin kept his hand against Malos’s back like an icy anchor.

Akhos verbally stepped in to cover Malos’s flank. “That’s quite an intriguing philosophy. You do realize you’re speaking to a group who spent the greater part of three hundred years with a singular goal of world annihilation?”

“You were looking after your own, in your own way,” Jac responded. “I don’t agree with how you did it. But according to your manifesto --”

“Our what?” Mikhail demanded.

“You actually read that?” Akhos pushed up his glasses, stunned. “I was under the impression Indol had seen to it all the copies burned two hundred and fifty years ago.”

“You wrote a manifesto?” Mikhail demanded of Akhos.

“Yeah. It was crap,” Patroka confirmed.

“It was intended to be propaganda,” Akhos insisted.

“Why did I hear nothing about this?” Mikhail did not wait for an answer. Turning on Jac, he demanded, “Tell me you have a copy!”

“Unless someone took out The Ode to a Titan in Heat, the one copy I know about is still hiding at the Torigoth central library.”

Akhos buried his head in his hands. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or mortified someone had the idea to hide a copy in _the_ trashiest romance novel ever written. Or worse: That it apparently _worked_.”

“Maybe they thought it was a lost excerpt,” Patroka suggested maliciously.

Akhos’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me, Jac. Where does your philosophy stand on fratricide?”

“With the rest of me. Well out of the way,” Jac quipped.

“Smart money is, we start running now, we _might_ make it to the lifeboats in time,” Nia stage whispered to her fellow Gormotti.

“No brawling,” Jin ordered. Akhos opened his mouth. “No attempted fratricide aboard the Titan.”

Akhos pouted. Patroka pointed and laughed. Mikhail just laughed. And Malos looked down at his brat.

“How is it you’re the only sane one?” Malos demanded.

Millie offered Malos one of those animal shaped granola crackers Pyra had foisted on them.

“Thanks.” Taking the cracker, Malos felt oddly lighter.

* * *

 

Four days. Four very long, very dull, very cloistered days. Jac and Jin debated philosophy while Akhos and Yachink tried to keep score. Mikhail got himself tossed out of the engine room twice. Patroka put her hand into tutoring the brat, and managed not to break anything. (Anything important, anyway. That bulkhead had clearly been faulty if it went all accordion shaped after one punch.) Nia and Dromarch did the sane thing and kept out of their way.

On the night of the final day, it finally happened. An assassin finally made their move.

...except not?

Dromarch eyed the end of Jin’s sword with due caution. Doing so was a neat trick seeing as the tip was a breath away from his nose. “I did try and warn my lady this was a poor idea,” Dromarch bemoaned.

“This?” Malos demanded, sheathing his power as Jin sheathed his sword. There was a _thump_ from the bunk above as Mikhail fell back asleep. Akhos had been less direct: He’d simply covered his head with his pillow.

“Gormot is visible along the vessel’s starboard deck. Sunrise is fast approaching, and there is nothing quite like the sight of the sun’s first rays hitting the forest canopies,” Dromarch explained.

Malos felt a grin tug at his lips. “Sometimes, Dromarch? Your Driver has a good idea.”

“Naturally,” Dromarch preened. “Though her execution of those ideas can be… questionable.”

“She didn’t touch my brat,” Malos noted.

“We had no intention of waking the entire deck,” Dromarch deadpanned.

Malos rolled his eyes. Yeah, yeah, Millie could scream them all deaf if she was in a mood to. Testing the ether bond between them, Malos judged his brat was close enough to waking up on her own that a few minutes early wouldn’t risk their eardrums.

“Jac cleared it with the captain, I take it,” Jin inquired. That he was following behind Malos showed he was interested, at least.

“Yachink saw to it,” Dromarch explained. “I am given to understand the captain finds Jac’s age and lack of rank to be… disquieting.”

Malos stifled another eye roll. Politics _sucked_. But what did not suck was his brat blinking blearily up at him. Crouching down, Malos murmured a soft, “Hey. Got a surprise.”

Millie gave a decent stink eye (something Patroka had taught her) before plopping her face back into the pillow.

“Cute,” Malos deadpanned. His brat gave a token protest when Malos scooped her up, blanket and all. “Trust me. You’ll like this surprise.”

Millie planted her face against Malos’s shoulder. She determinedly stayed that way, even when Nia gave a far too chipper, “Mornin’!” One or two guards got the funny idea they might want to spy on the super special passengers and followed along. ...or they had never seen trees, either. Even odds either way.

“Hey.” Malos poked his brat in her ribs, right where she was most ticklish. Millie worked up the energy to lift her face and glare. Malos pointed, “Look.”

Millie looked, looked back at Malos in a flat _whut_ that morphed within a heartbeat into shock, and immediately looked again. She rubbed her eyes, then rubbed them again. Jaw dropped right along with her sleep.

“Malos!” she squeaked. Bouncing in his arms, his brat pointed at Gormot. From this angle with this light the trees were doing decent impressions of the World Tree: All of them were glowing golden and ethereal, like visible ether was dancing through their branches.

“Told you trees weren’t in picture books,” Malos chuckled.

The sight of his brat smiling was the brightest thing Malos had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the Mor Ardain "arc" of this fic. Its around here where the plotbunnies got snagged by Drifts Through the Looking Glass, so brace yourselves, loves. I'm afraid I've only got four more chapters written.


	13. Croak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Gormott!

Seeing Torigoth Base from the inside was interesting. An extremely short experience, but an interesting one. The protocol to disembark for themselves, Nia, and Dromarch was different than the protocol for Jac and Yachink.

Watching Malos mind an overstimulated Millie, Jin let his thoughts wander. The Ardanian soldier from Torigoth was an interesting human. Lora would have enjoyed his company. Addam... might have enjoyed his philosophy, even if he was a self-professed atheist. Getting Rex and Jac in the same room, and talking, would lead to either an explosion of naive hope, or a surge in those crackpots who though Rex was the Architect reborn – now with Jac as a disciple. The latter could be interesting in so far as the political ramifications for Indol. It also would be needlessly cruel to both Rex and Jac. Still, the idea of sitting them down for a chat had its appeals.

"I should have picked a smaller trunk," Mikhail moaned.

Successfully distracted from his musings, Jin hummed, giving his attention to their Blade Eater. ...no. Mikhail was a Blade now. Jin would have to remember that.

"I mean, it weighs less than I thought it would," Mikhail was saying, adjusting his grip on the trunk in question so it rested more comfortably against his shoulder and back, "but it's still heavy. At least... I think it's heavy. Right?"

At close to two hundred pounds when full, yes. For a human it would be heavy.

"Have I mentioned this whole thing freaks me out still?" Mikhail asked softly, free hand going to his Core Crystal. Stopping, and deliberately pulling away. "I mean, not as badly as it did. It's just..."

"We'll spar. Later," Jin promised. Mikhail always thought better when he was moving.

"Thanks." Mikhail took a breath, taking it all in. Softly he moaned, "That's a mistake."

Jin watched as Millie, with her feet on the ground, took off in the direction of town. Malos was paying enough attention to snatch her back before their Driver could have a close encounter with a materials transport. Millie immediately protested.

"There's a flower field not far," Nia suggested, coming up to stand beside them. "Let her run herself silly before trying to get up to anything." Her eyes narrowed – curious, not suspicious. "What is the plan with you lot being here now?"

Jin kept silent.

"Ah," Nia hummed, "thought as much. Takin' it one step at a time ain't so bad an idea when you're runnin'. Soon or late, you need a place to stop."

Yes. They did. But for now they had some breathing room –

"You staying with Jac?" Nia asked.

...damn it.

Nia sighed, reading Jin's expression accurately. "Tora has a spare cot Millie could fit in, given she's Nopon sized and all. The rest of you are shit outta luck."

"They've got rooms at the inn."

Jin turned to look at the speaker. Yachink was holding onto his weapon; further behind him, talking to a corporal, Jac had a pack over his shoulder and was signing paperwork.

"Have they now," Nia hummed. "Morag 's been a busy bee, has she?"

Yachink nodded. "The Special Inquisitor was serious about insuring a smooth passage. Two rooms are booked for the next week according to the intel my Driver was handed."

"A full sevenday at the inn? That's not cheep in a town like Torigoth," Nia noted.

"Brat!" Malos warned.

Jin, Mikhail, Nia, and Yachink all shared a wince at the sight of Malos being run ragged by a toddler.

"Where was that flower field again?" Mikhail asked.

Nia gestured towards the base's gates. "This way."

Taking a moment to gather them all, especially Millie, Jin followed after Nia.

* * *

 

Wait for it... Wait.... _Pounce!_

Aw. The bug got away. Oh! There was another one! Wait.... and wait... and –

How did Big and Ack and everybody make this look so easy when it was so hard?

Determined, she looked for another bug. Sooner or later she'd catch one! And give it to Big! Then she'd catch another one for Ack, and one for Jin, and one for Pack, and one for Mik’, and one for everybody! But she had to _catch_ one first.

Oooh. What was Jac doing with those whatsits? Flowers? That looked pretty!

"It's a flower garland," Jac explained. He wove the long parts of the flowers together so they looked like a big pretty knot. "My sisters like them. Do you wanna learn how to make one?"

 _Yes please!_ she tried to say. What came out wasn't what she wanted. But it was close enough for Jac to get it.

"Here, take a seat, and I'll show you."

Making flower garlands was lots easier than catching bugs. Now all she needed was the right colors. Getting just the right colors was important...

" **Croak** ," went something loud.

Jac hesitated. "Brogs don't usually come down this way."

"I got it!" Pack cheered.

...Pack was weird. She loved her, but Pack was _weird_.

* * *

 

Happily cleaning off brog slime from her weapon, Patroka considered her day well spent. Things were dead, she wasn't, and if all wasn't right with the world it was all right in _her_ corner. The hunt hadn't been exciting per say – Akhos was still too defensive during battle – but no one had stopped her or butted in on her fun. And brogs – well. They weren't hard to take down. Just messy.

Satisfied her weapon was clean, Patroka got to her feet. The slain brogs had dissolved back into base ether already, leaving behind enough solidified items to make killing them profitable. The lack of meat was a bit off. But then, who was crazy enough to eat brog meat anyway?

"Those went down too quickly," Akhos mused.

"Brogs," Patroka pointed out the obvious, her _duh_ implied by tone.

"Even for brogs, they dissolved... rapidly. And there wasn't enough meat. Almost like they were ether constructs..."

"Who cares? They're dead." Patroka stretched out the last lingering muscle ache. It always felt so good to kill things. Made the world simple.

A rapid half stumble of small feet announced the arrival of her Driver. _With_ accompanying Aegis. Yeah, it was clear _now_ , but... Yeah. Not worth taking chances.

Swinging her weapon so that it locked into place in its holder behind her, Patroka scooped up her Driver. Giggles for hellos were nice. Not that Patroka cared. Her Driver lifted up her hands and –

There was something on her head. Patroka plucked it off to look at it. A... white and red flower garland.

"You make this?" Patroka demanded.

Millie gave an emphatic affirmative.

"Blame Jac," Malos explained. "He showed her how to do the knots."

"You did good," Patroka judged. Maybe the whole _flowers_ thing wasn't for Patroka – but she did appreciate a tight knot.

"Don't snicker, Akhos," Malos warned. "She made five of 'em. And they're all color coordinated."

Akhos choked on his laughter.

"Aw," Patroka cooed, "that's sweet of you." The fact it made Akhos sputter was as funny as the fact Patroka meant every word. "Did you already give Malos his?"

A nod.

"We had a discussion on how I don't wear headgear." Malos paused before blurting, "She's gonna work on a bracelet next time."

Combat-wise, bracelets were as bad as flower garlands. Still, so far as accessories went, they weren't terrible.

"Could mine be a bracelet, too?" Patroka asked. Millie agreed. "Thanks. You got Akhos's on you?"

Millie proudly held up a yellow and blue garland that was only a bit ruffled from having been squished.

"Akhos, get your ass over here," Patroka ordered. Akhos sputtered, dragging his feet. "It's cute. Very fetching."

"Bracelets for all of us next time, I suppose," Akhos yielded. Accepting the garland, he thanked Millie for the thought. "Now that we've gotten all of that taken care of – next act?"

"Jac wants to introduce Millie to his siblings."

Akhos adjusted his glasses. "You disagree?"

"No. Just..." Malos – hell. Malos _fiddled_ with a light purple and white garland. Not that Patroka cared – but thinking about Malos having never received a stupid gift before bugged her.

"Will you relax?" Patroka demanded. Malos gave her a warning _look_. "Meeting new people isn't hard when you've got five Blades in screaming distance. Millie can take care of herself, right?"

Millie nodded affirmative.

"Right," Patroka said aloud for her. Shifting her grip so as to be more comfortable, Patroka headed for the rest of the group. "Let's go meet Jac's family and get something to eat. I'm hungry."

Honestly. Men were _idiots_ sometimes.

* * *

 

Three bodies half Jac's height swarmed out of a door that looked no different than any other door. The three were bouncing up and down shouting, "Jac Jac Jac!" One broke away, grabbed ahold of Yachink's hand, and drug the Blade into the middle of it. They all bounced shouting, "Jac! Yachink! Jac! Yachink! Jac! Yachink!"

From her perch on Patroka's shoulders, Millie gave Malos a bemused look. Malos wasn't in any position to guess; any time people screamed his name, it came with sharp pointy death threats behind it.

"What's all this racket?" bellowed an adult's baritone.

"Da! Da! Jac and Yachink are back!" shouted the littlest body.

A Gormotti male with musculature that shouted _fighter_ lumbered out of the house. A beast Blade walked at his heels. The man's expression softened. "Well. So it is."

And then he took in Jac's idea of polite company, and his expression hardened. Only to soften all over again at the sight of Millie wearing five flower garlands and making them all look utterly domestic.

"You know, son. I knew you'd meet strange fellows in the army. Never quite expected you to meet Torna without ending up dead," the older Gormotti opined. His eyes went back to Millie. "Or that Torna would have such a low recruitment age."

"You wouldn't believe the half of it, da," Jac chuckled. To the bouncing bodies he said, "Come on, now. Let's take this inside before the neighbors' tongues wag more than they already do."

"Did you make lots of friends?" the female Gormotti asked Yachink.

The smaller male butted in with, "Didja help Jac slay lotsa monsters?"

"Did you have fun?" asked the hat wearing female.

"Yes, yes, and yes," Yachink answered. The first girl opened her mouth. "None of the monsters had Core Crystals."

The girl closed it on a disappointed, "Aw."

"You know if they found one it'd go to the Army first," the male jostled her.

"A girl can dream, can't she?" countered the girl. "A big cuddly beast Blade who could help with all the gardening and lugging and stuff! Fetching water isn't easy, you know. Helping to haul trees is even harder!"

"Finally settled on the arborist apprenticeship, eh?" Jac hummed.

"It was the only one they'd let a daydreamer like 'er at!" teased the hat wearing youngster.

"That's enough horsin', loves," spoke the beast Blade. "We've guests. Mind your manners."

“Sorry Zimm,” the children chorused.

The girl with the hat stuck her out her hand in their general direction. “I’m Zelen! My baby sister’s Morca and my baby brother’s Neel and our da’s Rhodri.”

“I’m older than you!” the male protested. The two immediately burst into “nu-uh” and “uh-huh”s.

“Zelen likes to pretend she’s oldest,” the younger girl stated in a conspiratorial manner. “I’m Morca. Wot’s your names?”

“None of your business,” Patroka snarked.

“That’s a funny bunch of names. Does that make you Ms. None?” asked Morca.

Mikhail burst out laughing. “She got you there, Patroka!”

Father, this was turning into a wreck. Malos jerked his thumb into his chest. “Malos.” Pointed around in order: “Jin. Mikhail. Akhos. Patroka. Millie. Got it?”

“No. But grumps are hard to understand anyway,” Morca shrugged. Mikhail sorted laughter while Malos attempted to recover. Fearlessly, she walked up to Patroka. “Does your friend with the pretty flower garlands want to come help cook lunch with us? Zimm makes the best tasty sausage in all Torigoth, but we have to help since Zimm doesn’t have thumbs.”

Millie considered, then nodded agreement.

“She likes to get into everything,” Patroka warned, setting Millie down. It felt like she was putting Malos’s heart right up against a well stoked hearth: Warm and quickly becoming uncomfortable.

“That’s alright. So do I!” Morca giggled. Taking a firm hold of Millie’s hand, Morca said, “You can help me wash the glitter spuds. That’s the best part since all we do is splash in the washtub.”

Millie laughed her agreement.

The beast Blade lingered for a moment. At a nod from his Driver, the Blade herded the children out the kitchen leading door. The last Malos saw of Millie was her bright smile. Then the door closed and Malos had to remind himself breathing was not optional.

The Gormotti Driver – Jac's father, and that must be _quite_ the story – pulled a chair out and took a seat. "We don't usually have so many guests," he apologized.

Malos managed to get his eyes off the kitchen door. The dwelling was on the small side, he guessed. It about ranked with the size of the suite back in Mor Ardain. The largest room was the communal living room dominated by a crafted wood table and six matching chairs. A started puzzle took up one end; floral themed. There was a worn wing chair by one window, and... the windows had flat privacy curtains. That was it. Two doors: One for the kitchen (obviously), one for accessing the rest of the house.

And yeah. There was a real dearth of seating. Yachink has opted for leaning against a wall while his Driver sat across from... his father.

"Real standup dad you must be," Malos heard himself say.

Patroka rolled her eyes; Akhos adjusted his glasses. Mikhail joined Yachink in holding up a wall. Jin opted to take a seat, in the chair midway between Jac and his "dad", like he was going to mediate a shouting match. That put Jin opposite the puzzle.

Jac kept silent. Which said a damn lot.

"Fair enough." Rhodri, was it? He was looking at the puzzle like he was looking for answers. "After the War, I let myself drown in grief for the dead. My wife..." He sighed, "That's naught but an excuse. I went to Mor Ardain to keep killing because I hurt and wanted them to keep hurting right along with me. Left Jac and the kids to fend for themselves. I don't begrudge Jac doin' what he had ta."

"You've a list of grudges elsewhere, way I hear it," Jac stated.

"That's fair, too. I do. Most of 'em's for my own shortsighted self." Rhodri rubbed the back of his head, the conversation coming to an awkward pause. "So... You lot _are_ Torna, ya?" He waited a short beat for Jin to nod. "Read your manifesto. Pretty purple prose for a serious effort. Propaganda piece?"

"Da," Jac groaned.

"Propaganda piece two centuries out of date," Akhos answered.

Rhodri nodded as if he'd been handed an answer. "Flesh Eaters, then. The lot of ya – no. Not my place to pry. Forget I even thought of askin'." He jerked his head towards he kitchen. "The lass seems a tad young to be a Blade."

"She's _mine_ ," Malos warned.

"Da, those rumors about the Praetor's Aegis?" Jac interjected.

"Architect, which ones? The ones where he loaned out the Aegis to Addam and the hero never paid up? The ones where the Praetor never lost control of the Aegis of Destruction? Or the one --"

Malos interrupted with a snarl, "He _never_ had control of me in the first place."

"Those ones," Rhodri hummed. Put his head in his hands and groaned, "You're the bloody Aegis." Lifting his head, he pointed towards the kitchen.

"Yah, da," Jac answered.

"Bloody 'ell." To Jac, Rhodri sighed, "You take too much after your ma, bless her soul. Can't not put your nose into the business of anybody in trouble."

Jac's smile was sardonic. "Thanks, da."

"So. You lot have a plan to get out of Indol's grasp? They're lookin' for you, ya know."

"Let 'em," Malos challenged.

"No doubt you can take 'em. But your Driver is a might too small to handle your weapon, Blade," Rhodri pointed out logically.

"The script is a work in progress," Akhos stated, adjusting his glasses.

A trio of firm knocks interrupted whatever Rhodri had planned to say.

"Nia and Dromarch?" suggested Jac.

Standing, Rhodri fetched a set of twin ring weapons from an otherwise unobtrusive spot in the wall. A neat location if it could hold weapons other than twin rings securely. Gesturing a request for silence, he headed for the door.

"Hello? Anybody home? It Tora!"

Rhodri rolled his eyes and secured his weapons to his belt. "Haven't you had your fill of tasty sausages yet you plumped furball?"

The distinct voice of a Nopon got clearer as Rhodri opened the front door. "Tora never get full of tasty sausage! Zimm and Rhodri best tasty sausage cooks in all Torigoth! Though now that Rhodri ask, is Rhodri okay?"

"What brings up that question?" Rhodri wondered.

The door closed and the Nopon's voice got closer: "Well. Tora was doing calibration on Poppi's optics. Saw something strange."

"Poppi sure was not optic glitch!" insisted a female voice; kind of sounded like a child.

"What kind of strange?" rumbled Rhodri.

"Very strange. Saw man who looked just like Malos. Cannot be Malos, though. Malos broke down into ether particles. Very pretty. Meh-meh! Not _dead_ part! Particles remaining looked pretty."

"Poppi thought it looked sad. Like tears."

Torna was staring at him. Malos shrugged, a non-verbal, _What?_

"That is not the same as being vaporized, Malos," Mikhail hissed.

"Close enough," Malos grumbled.

Oh Father _damn_ it. Jin had the, _We are going to discuss this_ , face. Malos hated that look.

A familiar Nopon walked into the room. Wings and arms fluttering, he sputtered, "Meh-meh! See? Is not Malos standing next to Jin who also dead!"

"But it is, Masterpon!" replied the artificial Blade.

"Meh?" The Nopon's eyes went wide. Malos crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "Meh-meh?" The Nopon looked at Jin, then over at Patroka, Akhos, and Mikhail. "Meh-meh-meh~!"

 _Thump_.

And one Nopon was out for the count.

* * *

 

"Honestly. The lot of you are hopeless. Absolutely _hopeless_ ," chided Nia. "Dromarch and I step out to the market for our contribution to lunch, and you terrify poor Tora just by lookin' at him."

"Masterpon more scared of ghosts than monsters," Poppi noted.

"We weren't even gone half an hour and this happens. Do you lot have kick me signs on your backs?" Nia demanded.

Whatever quip their response would be was cut by Tora groaning. "Nia?"

"Upsey daisy, Tora." Gripping a wing, Nia helped Tora to his feet.

Tora groaned, "Tora have strange dream. Dreamed Malos and Jin and all them not dead."

"Well, they were. Architect knows how they aren't now." Nia groomed her twitching ear.

"Eh?" Tora looked around and found the only difference being Dromarch and Nia. "Meh-meh..." He straightened up. "Not going to try and hurt Pyra and Mythra and friends?"

"No," Jin confirmed.

Tora nodded. "Then there something Tora must do."

Determined, Tora walked up to Jin. The ice Blade stayed seated without reacting --

Tora bowed. Or as close as a Nopon could get to a bow without planting their face into the floor.

"You saved Rex-Rex and friends. You _died_ saving us. You also help Poppi when all stuck in scary place. Tora want to say – thank you."

...this was not on the list of things Malos expected to happen today.

Jin took a needed second to close his jaw. "You're... You're welcome, Tora."

Tora straightened up. "If Jin and Jin-friends need help, and Tora can, Tora will. That promise."

"Well that's not bloody awkward," Nia mused. Then she frowned. "Oi. Malos, where's your brat?"

"In the kitchen," Malos answered, reaching without consciously thinking about it. An emotional impression of giggles drifted across the ether link.

"She can cook, too, can she?" Nia demanded.

"Shove off," Malos grumbled.

Rhodri's eyes narrowed. Heading for the kitchen, he shoved open the door but did not go through. "Loves? Zimm?"

"We've been delayed by an over-exuberant glitter spud washer," the beast Blade rumbled in good humor.

"Architect save us," Rhodri chuckled. "One of you lot know how to cook with kids under foot?"

"I'm the only one who can cook," Mikhail volunteered.

"I'll handle it," Nia stepped up. Mikhail eyed her. Nia added coyly, "Unless Pyra gave you the juice recipe for those frozen pops?"

"Ladies first," Mikhail bowed.

With a catty, _humph_ , Nia headed to the kitchen. Mikhail gave a joking salute – and a glare that lasted a little too long at Malos – then followed after.

Nia half shouted, half snorted, "Better get your brat a clean outfit!"

Mikhail came back a few moments later, carrying an utterly soaked Millie at arm's length out in front of him. "She _was_ enthusiastic."

Malos sighed, "The water is supposed to stay in the tub."

Millie grinned.

* * *

 

It took some doing but, after lunch, Jin was felled by three little girls all giving him The Eyes. The coordinated assault was organized by Nia and her "fabulous" stories of Pyra's mythical frozen juice concoction. Without further prompting than Nia bemoaning they were short an ice Blade, Millie led the charge against Jin.

"You're a Blade?" Zelen asked innocently.

"The whole lot of us are," Akhos answered, waiving away childish wonder.

"Blades sure do come in a lotta shapes and sizes," Neel wondered.

Millie intensified her look at Jin. Jin affected to ignore it; but he did squirm a hair. Patroka hid her mirth behind a water glass.

"Are you..." Morca hesitated. Her eyes narrowed. "You're an ice Blade? 'S that why you're all dressed in white?"

"Color coordinated wardrobes strike again," Mikhail snickered. Jin threw him a glare.

"You're ice element? Cool!" cheered Zelen.

Millie stood at Jin's side. Leaning forward, she put her hands on his knee. Jin made his first error: Looking right into her big, round, shining eyes. Morca and Zelen slipped in on either side of Millie and dawned identical expressions.

"Please," they chorused.

Malos had to give credit where it was due: Jin managed to hold out for all of two minutes. He caved with a sigh.

"Yay!"

“You already have the molds prepped,” Jin figured.

“Better!” Tora cheered.

Nia put down three sets of already filled molds. Each mold had a variation to it. Each variation was minor: Size, shape, materials. Little things that could go a long way towards mass production. ...mass production. Damn, an Aegis never thought small, did they?

“Tora ask Jin tell Tora and Poppi which type freeze bestest with leastest amount of power,” Tora requested. He already had a notebook out and his wings extended in excited trepidation.

Poppi misread Jin’s hesitation. “Jin not worry about exact numbers. Poppi will be analyzing as Jin freezes.”

“To what end?” Jin asked cautiously.

Tora happily explained, “Pyra want make lots of juice molds. Friends know Pyra and Rex-Rex travel all over with Garfont Mercenaries. Pyra thinks, make frozen juice treats! Make kids smile! But not all ice Blades super awesome, so molds must be bestest can be.”

“Masterpon can be idiot, but Masterpon also great engineer, so Pyra ask Masterpon to look into problem,” Poppi added cheerfully. “Masterpon like Pyra’s juice mix almost as much as tasty sausage. Masterpon jump on problem with whole self!”

“Is true!” Tora confirmed. “Even try with Poppi using ice ether engine modification. It… not go so well… meh-meh...”

“Ether modifications meant for combat. Difficult to modulate power in non-combat setting. It major drawback to artificial Blade design. Masterpon promise patch to fix, but no idea how or when,” Poppi admitted, doing her own version of a shrug. At least Malos thought that was a shrug.

"So that's why your house was covered in icicles," Neel nodded sagely.

"Meh-meh," Tora sighed while Poppi hung her head. "Yes. That why." The Nopon bounced to his full diminutive height. "Enough yabbering! There tasty _science_ to be done!"

"Poppi ready when Jin ready!" the artificial Blade promised, giving Jin a slapdash salute.

Seriously. How. How had _any_ of Rex's party survived, much less beaten them? They were all clowns!

Jin visibly contemplated the same thoughts bothering Malos. Instead of voicing his concerns, he pulled the nearest mold of the three away from its fellows. Setting his hands so the mold was between them, Jin let a trickle of power flow. Upping the power output a hair's width at a time took concentration, skill, and absolute control. So a regular Tuesday for Jin.

Even so, Malos found himself holding his breath. Watching Jin work on something this intricate, this... meticulous. It was fascinating.

"Done," Jin announced. The silence shattered into impressed (and achingly genuine) oohs.

"Ether flow output successfully recorded!" Poppi rattled off figures that Tora promptly wrote into his notebook.

"And treats at maximum tastiness?" Tora inquired.

Patroka beat the kids to the punch. Taking a slobbering lick, she judged, "Tastes fine to me."

Jin handed the frozen mold to Jac for a fair distribution of the remaining five treats.

"They're all the same flavor, you know," Nia pointed out. Using a feint, she got past Jac's guard to collect one treat each for herself and Dromarch.

Jac shook his head, then gave the last three treats to the girls.

"Thank you!" they chorused. Millie hugged Jin's shin before accepting her treat.

They stuck around to watch Jin ply his skills on the second mold -- from which Malos took his due _first_ \-- and the third. Once all the frozen goods were distributed, Zimm and Yachink worked in tandem to heard the little ones back into the depths of the house.

"Poppi have questions," Poppi announced.

"Is it how we're alive?" Malos demanded.

"No. Poppi reason if Mythra and Pyra could survive being atomized, then Malos must used same secret Aegis method."

Malos choked, "They got _what_?!"

"Meh-meh... Poppi," Tora softly censured around the two treats he'd snagged.

"Poppi not supposed to talk about it. Poppi not like taking about it. Those memories important, but very, very sad." The artificial Blade wasn't acting artificial at all when she shook her head clear. "No, Poppi want to know name of friend."

Since he was being pointed at, Mikhail pulled the treat stick out of his mouth. "It's Mikhail."

"Mikhail. You piloted Monoceros, yes?" When Mikhail nodded confirmation, Poppi said, "Thank you. You save friends and Masterpon when you block Indol shot. Blast cost you life."

"It wasn't..." Mikhail started to say.

"It _was_ something important," the little robot insisted. "Poppi will always remember." Poppi bounced in her seat, turning away while Mikhail recovered. "Poppi have second question. Why Malos give half his Core Crystal to littlepon?"

"She's my Driver, she was dying, end of story," Malos snarled.

"Okie-dokie. Just checking. Driver of Malos have name?"

"Millie."

"Millie," Poppi repeated. "Poppi noticed Millie have trouble vocalizing words. Poppi also noticed very few people here have patience. Masterpon have less patience than littlepon."

"Meh-meh!" Tora protested.

"Poppi have lots of patience. Would be happy to help Millie practice words. Poppi could also help with hand signals."

"Salvager's Code?" Akhos hummed.

"Poppi learned code to help Rex-Rex with salvaging duties! Much of what Rex-Rex find help fund adventure. Poppi could help work code into hand language for all the time use."

"We'll take your offer under advisement," Jin hedged diplomatically.

Poppi nodded. "Poppi have final question for now. How long will friends stay in Torigoth?"

"A week. Maybe," Patroka hummed. She paused at the looks she was getting from the others. "What? We've got free room and board for that long. Might as well use it."

"Okay. Poppi will have alpha prototype version of hand signals for friends to look at by lunchtime tomorrow. That way, Poppi have enough time to correct prototype as needed before friends leave."

Maybe the robot needed to have her vocabulary updated. _Under advisement_ did not mean -- oh forget it. _Fine_. If the robot wanted to blow a fuse, let her. It wasn't like Malos would have been able to come up with proper shit like that anyway. Akhos, _maybe_. This saved them all headaches, especially Millie.

"Begs question of where too, after Torigoth," Jac's father inquired. "You can't avoid Indol forever given how much of a sqood they are. Tentacles in all the nations, they have."

"Part of why we wanted out of Mor Ardain was to collect additional information on just that topic," Akhos stated, fiddling with the leftover stick.

"I've names of information brokers," Rohdri offered. "Market 's busiest at 'round early afternoon if you'd rather try your luck that way. Local tea shop is 'round the clock as well."

Akhos hummed, considering the information. "We could use some miscellaneous supplies."

Mikhail rubbed his hands together gleefully. Malos rolled his eyes; what was so great about shopping? Father help him if Millie turned out to be a shopaholic, too. Mmph. Speaking of.

"Nap time," Malos noted.

Jin nodded. "We should be going soon."

"The loves won't mind a littlin' usin' their bed for a nap. Stay, if you'd rather," Rhodri offered.

Jin looked at Malos, who shrugged. Akhos, Patroka, and Mikhail likewise shrugged. There was a lot of shit to mull over in respectable company.

"Thank you," Jin decided, staying seated.

"I'll take you back to where Yachink woulda herded them, Malos," Jac offered, rising.

Nodding, Malos likewise got to his feet, and followed after Jac towards his brat.


	14. Trees and Apples

They needed to talk.

Fair was fair: Malos needed to talk (or avoid talking) to a number of people. The whole atomized is not but is the same as vaporization _thing_ was a conversation he'd dodged yesterday. He intended to continue to dodge it for the rest of eternity, thanks. He wasn't bugging Torna about how they died. Why were they bugging him?

( _Because they're your f_ _amily_ _and they worry, you twit,_ was a realization Malos was Not Having, full stop. Feelings made him break out in hives. ...if an Aegis could break out in hives.)

But there was a pair of people he needed to talk to, because... Just because. Because the sinkhole that had opened up in his gut when Poppi had said _disintegration_ bugged him. A lot. So there.

Center his focus. Empty his mind. Let himself drift away from the anchor that was _here/now_. Reach out and open –

Artificial wind blew against his face. Laughter drifted around him, a merry counterpoint to the absence of the church bell. The sun was warm enough to be comfortable. Breathing in, Malos soaked in what Elysium had meant for Pyra and Mythra: Freedom.

 _Enough,_ Malos told himself firmly. Determined, he headed for the source of the laughter. Didn't take long to find them both sitting under the tree.

"Speak of the Aegis!" Mythra giggled.

"Malos! Hello," Pyra chuckled, marshaling her giggles. "We didn't know you could still gain access at that distance, since the World Tree's no longer operational."

"Yeah, whatever," Malos huffed, running his hand through his hair. Damn it -- why was it hard to say this?

"Something wrong?" Pyra asked.

"Millie and the others alright?" Mythra demanded.

"Fine," Malos answered shortly, "just... We ran into that artificial Blade. Poppi."

"Great! She's a good friend. Perfect company, and so sweet," Pyra gushed.

"Yeah, real sweet." Malos struggled for a breath. Failed and blurted: "She said you went down with the Tree. By being atomized."

Pyra and Mythra exchanged a speaking look.

"Yeah, that sounds accurate," Mythra hummed.

"Sounds accurate?" Malos pressed.

"Neither of us remember much after we gave Rex our half of the Core Crystal," Pyra elaborated. "There were flashes of things. Seeing Rex and everyone safely off the World Tree. Setting the Artifice to self-destruct, so that the power flow would stop the World Tree from causing extinction level damage."

"Then peace. _Boring_ peace. We didn't want to stay. So," Mythra shrugged, "we left."

"That's when we found we were in separate bodies. When we woke up with everyone on Azurda," Pyra finished.

Malos sat down near them. "Fuck."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Pyra insisted, chuckling.

"If I hadn't," Malos started to say.

Mythra punched Malos in the arm. "Shut up. You can't change the past. You can only move forward."

Malos rubbed where Mythra had punched him. Was it a compliment or an insult that she never held back?

"How is Poppi doing? And Tora?" Pyra asked, changing the subject.

"Being good little minions in your evil plan to flood Alrest with frozen fruit sticks," Malos answered, letting the past die.

"It's not evil!" Pyra insisted. In the same breath Mythra was saying, "But it's tasty evil!"

"Mythra!" Pyra gasped.

Mythra laughed. Malos couldn't stop his own chuckle. Pyra's expression was just...

Ow? Wait. What _ow?_

"Millie's up to something," Mythra guessed. Malos blinked, refocusing on _here_. The light Aegis nodded at Malos's hands.

...his palms and fingers were covered in scratches. Small, thin scratches, non-lethal. But – ow! Yeah, those _hurt_.

"Go," Pyra insisted before Malos could say anything.

"Go be a knight in shining armor. Rescue the princess," Mythra giggled.

Malos expressed his opinion on the comparison. The world faded back to reality accompanied by Mythra's peals of laughter.

Situation check. Room at the inn. Three bodies breathing, counting his own. Short one Jin. So whatever was going on with his brat, Jin was likely already on it. Now... Where _was_ his brat?

Focusing on the ether bond caused it to flair into visibility. Emotions rang _determination_ loud as the church bell. Following that sight and sound led Malos out of the inn, down the main street, and – out of Torigoth? Not very far. Out into a farmland area. Lots of grazing pasture and... a lot of trees.

A lot of very _big_ trees.

_Ohshit!_

A hand slapped into his chest, arresting Malos's forward charge. If that hand had belonged to anyone other than Jin, they would have lost it.

"Jin...!" Malos gasped, ready to protest.

"Trust her," Jin said. And he said it so _simply_. Like his brat wasn't a full Titan pede _straight up_ a tree with no net no _nothing_ between her and breaking her _neck_.

"She'll fall," Malos warned.

"She trusts you will catch her if she does. Trust her," Jin said, voice neutral as a flat sheet of ice.

"She's getting hurt," Malos reported. He showed Jin his hands, covered in scratches.

"That is nothing," Jin countered.

Which, alright, _yes_. Comparatively it was nothing. But... But...!

There was a faint grunt from his brat. Malos's heart was in his throat as he watched Millie pull herself on to a branch big enough to hold her. She stood – oh _Father_ she was _gonna fall!_ – and wobbled. Balance found, she toddled cautiously out. What was she after –?!

An apple. A damn big apple when compared to Millie. It was double the size of Malos's fist. Grunting with the effort, Millie plucked the apple from the branch. Happily, she put the apple into a – Who had given his brat a carry sack? Malos was going to _kill them_. Disintegrate them slowly. Starting with their toes.

Apple secure, Millie looked around her. The height seemed to finally catch up to her, because she froze.

Jin gripped Malos so he didn't move. "Trust her," Jin insisted.

The lump in Malos's throat was too big to swallow around. As he watched, Millie recovered. She crawled back to the tree's trunk. Very carefully, she looked out around her for something specific, something –

"Tora right here!"

That Nopon was going to be a feather pillow by time Malos got done with him!

"No worries, Mill-Mill. Pass Poppi apple. Then can use both hands," Poppi instructed cheerfully. "Poppi make sure Masterpon remember not to eat food that not his."

"Meh-meh-meh! But that biggest, juiciest apple in all Torigoth! Surely it alright if Tora have one little bite."

"Apple is Mill-Mill's apple, Masterpon. Not for Masterpon to eat," Poppi reiterated.

Millie got the satchel off. Managing a, "pop!" sound, Millie threw the satchel down. Poppi caught it before the apple could be bruised.

Malos jerked forward, his movement checked by Jin's tight hold. _Trust_ , he kept saying. But Malos... How could Malos trust anything? Hell. He wasn't sure he trusted _himself_. And Millie was so small, and human, and _frail_. Her falling was inevitable. And Jin was just –

Millie slipped. Malos felt every scratch, every bruise, every sore, as his brat skidded down the trunk.

But she stopped. His brat held on tenaciously and _stopped_ herself from falling.

 _She can do this,_ Malos realized. His heart stayed firmly lodged in his throat. The closer Millie got to the ground, the more Malos felt himself relax.

Muscles shaking, Millie judged her current height, screwed her eyes closed, and let herself drop. She landed on her feet hard and plopped down to her butt. But she was safely down. She had done it. Oh, Father. His brat had done it.

"Yay!" cheered Tora, bouncing and dancing.

"Mill-Mill successfully retrieve biggest bestest apple in Torigoth!" Poppi congratulated.

"How?" Malos quietly asked. Jin arched an eyebrow at him. "Did you know," Malos clarified.

Jin looked back at Millie basking in the bouncing glow of a hyper Nopon and equally hyper robot.

"She said your name."

Malos blinked. Looked at Millie. Looked back at Jin.

"Millie said your name. Clearly," Jin confirmed, smiling faintly. "She has limits. If we continue to hold her back from challenging those limits, she will never find what those limits are – and how easily she can break them."

Malos digested those words. Then he asked, "Can we start with smaller trees next time?"

Jin chuckled.

"Malos!"

Malos felt his heart stop. His brat... said his name. _Shouted_ his name. The rest of the sentence wasn't clear, the next words loosing their way between her brain and her mouth. But his name _was._ And the emotions packed behind it were just as clear: _I did something awesome come see!_

Malos walked over with calm haste, making speed without looking like he was running. "Up at the crack of dawn, brat?"

Millie got to her feet, wobbled, steadied, and held out her arms in a request to be picked up. Malos scooped her up and held her close.

"You got branches in your hair," Malos pointed out, removing said branches. "Was whatever it was worth it?"

Millie smiled brightly. Oh yes, that grin shouted, absolutely worth it. Turning in Malos's arms, Millie reached for Poppi. Specifically for the sack Poppi was holding.

"Millie picked the best apple in Torigoth," Poppi informed Malos solemnly, handing the aforementioned apple to Millie.

"Applesauce fixings? Really?" Malos chuckled.

Millie shook her head negative, sharply.

"Not for applesauce. Then what are you going to do with it?" Malos asked.

Millie... handed the apple to Malos.

"For me," Malos blinked, stunned. "You went up that monster tree by yourself for an apple... for me."

Millie smiled, nodding affirmative.

Malos felt his insides go mushy. He managed, "It's kinda big for me to eat by myself." And then an idea hit. "Watch this," Malos whispered, then shouted, "Hey Jin!"

Malos threw the apple up and over at Jin. Jin froze, focusing, his weapon freezing into being in his hands. Faster than eyes could follow Jin _moved._ The apple continued on its downward trajectory, whereupon Jin caught it in one hand.

The apple folded open into eight neat slices centered around an intact apple core.

"Wowwie wow!" Tora gushed. "Has Jin ever considered career as fancy chef?"

Jin blushed faintly. "I don't know how to cook."

Malos snagged his share of the slices, and handed Millie her share. Jin kept hold of his share while Tora took the remainder. The apple was crisp, faintly bitter but packed with sweetness. Jin's ice attribute had chilled the slices so they were frosty without being frozen.

"You pick good apples," Malos judged. Millie smiled brightly around her remaining apple bites.

All in all, not a bad way to start a day.

* * *

 

 

"Where were you?!" Akhos demanded.

Malos put his hand against Akhos's face. Pushing the healer back, Malos continued on his way back to the inn. Millie bounced on his shoulder, and proudly showed off the remains of her spoils.

"An apple core?" Akhos identified it.

"What happened to the rest of it?" Mikhail asked.

Millie mimed crunching down.

"You went off to breakfast without us?" Mikhail pouted playfully.

"One apple does not a breakfast make," Akhos pointed out. Then turned right back to getting in their faces. "Where did you go? _Why_ did you go without getting the rest of us? What if there'd been trouble? Malos, you need to --"

"Why does Millie look like she's wearing a tree?" Patroka demanded.

"Because she fought a tree for a damn good apple," Malos snarked. Millie perked, proud of her momentous accomplishment.

Akhos opened his mouth. Shut it. "No casualties?"

"Scratches, bruises, the usual," Malos replied. Millie showed off an impressive scratch on her left palm.

"Well all right then." And that was all Akhos would say to that.

After breakfast came Jac and Yachink on an errand for their siblings. It was to ask, cordially, if Millie would care to join Jac's sibs for their schooling. Mikhail won the lots draw to be chaperon on behalf of Torna; so, their plans were set. Patroka had heard from the innkeeper about a monster subjugation request from the town guard. Given Akhos wasn't letting Patroka out unsupervised (wise choice, that), Akhos accompanied Patroka on the fetch quest.

Malos would have preferred to go with Akhos and Patroka... but as Jin had pointedly reminded him, Malos had to – did? – have trust in the others. And he had a responsibility to his Driver; _his_ brat. Which meant... ugh. Meeting with Poppi to figure out this hand signals shit. Like it or not, for this to work, more than Millie and Poppi (and salvagers, _if_ this worked) had to be able to understand it.

"Concept is basic. Take alphabet. Give one hand sign for each letter," Poppi explained. "Bigger words get made with shortcuts. Shortcuts turned into puns. Poppi blames this design flaw on Masterpon. Reminder: Program is in alpha testing stages. Significant room for improvement!"

Puns. Ugh. If the World Tree had still been running, Malos could have looked through its database. The world before Alrest had been full of tech; the kind of tech that made Alrest's current cutting edge look like a butter knife. A world that advanced had to have had something for people like Millie. A way to communicate without speaking.

By the end of four hours, Malos was ready to put his head through a wall just to deal with the headache. The alphabet was the one thing that worked with the "alpha system". Everything else was repurposed from the Salvager's Code.

(Someday Malos was going to grill Rex about why certain phrases were in there. "Restroom" didn't make much sense. Neither did "dinner" and "booze", or why "booze" was one finger short of "boobs".)

"Recommend nap?" Poppi offered tentatively.

Malos banged his head against the table. That felt... so damn good.

"This is more difficult than we anticipated," Jin translated.

"Yes. Making whole new language for one person. Would be easier if many people worked on it. But there not many people who cannot talk. Just leaves us," Poppi reasoned.

"The alphabet and the Salvager Code shortcuts are sufficient for now," Jin decided. "We can modify as needed going forward."

"Roger roger. Poppi will make alphabet guide tonight so friends may distribute to other friends and all start practicing with Millie."

"Thank you," said Jin. Malos tried to say the same; it came out muffled by the weight of responsibility.

A double prickle of familiar dark ether brushed the edge of Malos's awareness.

"Mikhail's inbound with brat," Malos reported.

"Brats," Jin corrected fondly.

"Okay, okay, we're here, go tackle Malos and work out some of that energy!" Malos could hear Mikhail jokingly order. Following the faint command came the rapid pattern of small feet and slightly larger feet. The small feet stumbled; the larger ones shifted into a kind of holding pattern until the small ones were back to running.

A familiar small form barreled into Malos's kneecaps.

Reaching down, Malos scooped his brat into his lap. "You're wearing a tree again," Malos pointed out, plucking a sappy spring of green out from behind Millie's ears.

"We got to go with Morca to her apprenticeship!" Zelen gushed. She, Neel, and Morca all had tree bits in their hair and on their cloths as well.

"Learned all about trees, huh?" Malos chuckled at the raw enthusiasm Millie displayed.

"Trees got lots more to 'em than I thought," Neel admitted.

"We got to make Puzzlewood puzzles!" Morca announced gleefully. "The paint 's still drying or we woulda brung 'em. Didja know that Puzzlewood is the most common wood type in Gormott? It's the one most in demand, too! Woodworkers love it 'cause it makes even the most common piece unique. Puzzlewood 's wot made the first puzzles possible."

"Neat," Malos managed. Out the corner of his eye he could see Jin (the traitor) stifling a smile. Armed humans, Malos could deal with. Brats other than his brat? Oh yeah – utterly out of his depth.

"Then there were naps," Mikhail added.

"Millie was the one who napped. The rest of us helped the treemen haul a sapling to plant," Neel corrected.

"And then there was the gogol," Mikhail sighed. He was grinning as he said it, though.

"Rotbart." Morca shuddered as she spoke the name.

"Unique monster," Mikhail confirmed. "Akhos and Patroka stopped by to say hi after they finished their job."

So. Dead unique monster.

"They know how to fight. They used all sorts of flashy stuff. Arts, it's called?" Zelen asked.

"Yep. Flashy stuff like that is called Arts. Patroka certainly showed off. Akhos tried to keep it to a dull roar," Mikhail confirmed. To Zelen he asked, "You wanna be a Driver?"

Zelen shook her head negative. "Fighting is scary, even though sometimes you gotta."

"I wanna be a Driver!" Morca reminded them.

"Beast Blade who can help with trees," Mikhail recalled. Morca grinned.

"Drivers and Blades working together are real neat," Neel added his two gold. "Blades take care of their Drivers, 'nd their Drivers take care of their Blades. That's what Tora always says. Da says it's a Driver's duty to care for their Blade 'cos Blades are the Architect's children."

Oh Father. _Philosophy._ Worse: Philosophy with _innocent kids_ who had _feelings_ who he couldn't _yell at_. Where was an escape route when Malos needed one?

"Did you ever meet the Architect?" Zelen asked. There wasn't a malicious thought behind the question. Just damn infant curiosity. Father damn it...!

Morca saved him, jumping in with, "Blades forget when they return to their Core Crystals, dummy! Even if he _had_ he wouldn't ah remembered it."

Zelen looked as awkward as Malos felt. Scuffing her foot against the floor, she mumbled a, "Sorry."

"Oh!" Neel jumped. Malos damn near jumped, himself. "Da wanted to know if you 'nd yours wanna do dinner at the inn's cafe! The food there 's tasty! Not as good as Zimm cooked tasty sausage, but not bad."

"Dinner with your family would be fine," Jin replied.

"I'll get da and Jac and Zimm and Yachink!" Neel cheered, bolting for the back rooms. The kid was shouting so loud Malos could hear him.

"Patroka and Akhos?" Mikhail inquired.

"If they're late, that's their own damn problem," Malos shrugged.

Mikhail shrugged, accepting the judgment as fair enough.

Poppi gathered up the spread of paperwork. "Poppi should go check on Masterpon. Masterpon not always pay attention when working on project. Will have promised books tomorrow morning."

"Thanks," Malos said – and meant it.

"It Poppi's pleasure." Items thus collected, Poppi made her exit with a,"Bye bye everyone." Assorted goodbyes saw Poppi out the door.

"Is now too soon for dinner?" Zelen asked, head popped through the back door.

Jin didn't look ruffled. "No."

Zelen stuck her head back on the right side of the door and yelled, " _They said no!_ " into the house's depths.

"Zelen should apprentice as a musician. She's got the lungs for it," Neel joked. "Or a dancer, what with how her arms 'nd legs are getting all gangly." The kid exaggerated arms flailing about.

Mikhail stick in, "Hey! As an unprofessional dancer myself, I'll ask you quit that."

"You dance?" Morca asked. Neel added a, "But you're a boy!"

"Your point?" Mikhail inquired.

"But... But... but dancing 's so... _girly,_ " Neel protested, shuddering at the word.

Mikhail rolled his eyes. "Used to be a time when girls wouldn't dance because only men were supposed to. Ancient history," Mikhail insisted at their wide eyed looks. "Look it up at the library. History of Dance in Alrest, Abridged."

"If it's there, Neel, you have to tell Zelen you're sorry and quit teasing," Morca ordered immediately.

"Fair enough. _If_ it's there," Neel agreed.

"Jac says we have to get the tree sap 'n' stuff off us first 'fore we have dinner," Zelen reported. Looking at Millie (and by extension Malos), Zelen offered, "Wanna use our washtub?"

"Keep the water _in_ the tub," Malos reminded her, setting Millie down. Millie _grinned_.

...yeah. Malos was going to be cleaning up a washroom tonight.

* * *

 

Dinner was uneventful, with the exception of Patroka and Akhos showing up midway through. Jac's siblings took it as an invitation to tell them all about their day, including their impressions of the fight. Patroka didn't say it, but from the little clues, Jin could see she enjoyed Neel's enthusiastic retelling of the fight against the unique monster.

It was the little clues which said the most. Akhos smiled more openly, fidgeting with his glasses as he took everything in. Patroka was calmer; still claiming she did not care, but letting slip how much she _did_ care with growing regularity. Mikhail was still bombastic, though it had mellowed; less a shield, more genuine amusement. Malos was – Architect. Jin could write a book on how much Malos had and hadn't changed in so short a time.

 _And how much have you changed, Jin?_ Lora's voice whispered to him.

Sipping on a cooling cup of jessimine tea, Jin allowed himself a small smile. Their group was open and warm in a way that was familiar from old, older, oldest memories.

They were Torna. Torna was home.

There was a commotion on the main street. Nothing that spoke of danger: The townspeople around him paid attention long enough to identify the source, then either gathered for a sideshow or dismissed it.

"The recruiters are getting a late start," Rhodri hummed. "They usually start hawkin' their 'join the Army!' slog 'fore lunch, when the market crowds are just pickin' up."

The sharp tip of a lieutenant's helmet bobbed above the heads of the crowd. The voice that followed was amplified through training, which was itself impressive in its own rights.

"By order of the Emperor and by command of the Imperial Senate, hear ye, hear ye, oh citizens of the Empire! Blades are not weapons alone! Nay! The Architect meant them to be partners and allies through all life's struggles!"

"The hell?" Mikhail started to hiss.

Jin shushed him. This sounded... interesting.

"To better reflect his will, as of this hour, any who wish to become Drivers may petition to do so! They will not – I repeat: They will _not_ be required to join the armed forces of Mor Ardain! Be ye farmer who look for companion in the fields! Be ye woodsman who look for aid with threats greater than mere monsters! Be ye adventurer with plans most bold! Have ye the courage to test your mettle before a Core Crystal's impartial judgment, step forward!"

"What's the catch?" jeered a faceless man in the crowd.

"You must register with the Army as a Mor Ardain citizen Driver. That's it! We can register you right here!"

"What about Indol?" asked a woman.

"What about 'em?" booed a heckler. "Their Praetor is rotting! Let 'em rot too!" Various voices took up the cry, "Let 'em! Let 'em!"

"To more immediate matters, my good fellows!" The lieutenant stepped down, recapturing attentions. "Who here wants to test themselves? Who here wants to be a Driver?"

"Let's go watch!" insisted Neel.

"I hope nobody dies," worried Zelen.

Jin looked at Torna – at his family – and saw the majority interest. Akhos summed it up as, "Sounds fun."

Nodding, Jin stood. It would at the least be educational. And if they meant what they said – if it wasn't all propaganda, then... Then the world might yet turn out how Addam had hoped.

Patroka snagged Millie from Malos's lap. Pulling her hair around one shoulder first, Patroka set Millie on her shoulders. "Good enough view?"

Millie giggled. It sounded almost – not quite, but close to, _pack!_

She was trying. She was trying so hard to overcome her limitations. Lora would have adored her.

"Come on! Let's see how close we can get!" Neel urged. Jac's siblings surged forward, Zelen drifting back to cling to Jac's pant leg.

Their group was both large enough and intimidating enough they were able to make it near the front of the crowd without trying. The setup was simplistic: Three Ardanian soldiers guarding an unmarked crate. A basic metal foldable table set out into the street, the crowd forming a loose semicircle around table and tent. There was enough room for five, six people to stand without crowding. A glittering Core Crystal shimmered on the table, a sleeping jewel of nightmares and dreams.

"Might as well damn try!" grumbled a bulky man from behind them. As he muscled past, Jin could see the scars on the man's hands. A woodcutter or carver, then.

"Ah! Borin!" Rhodri breathed. "Decent man. Not fit for war."

The Gormotti man reached forward. Taking the Crystal he –

Jin felt frozen to the ground. He saw – he wasn't sure what he saw. There was a halo of light around the man. It glistened golden, the same as an ether link at full strength. That same golden glow held around the Core Crystal. It grew, brightening. Strengthening.

Then was shattered by... by _something._ A movement within the Crystal. Dark. Darker than night. Striking hard and... hot but not hot. Dark but not darkness ether. Whatever it was, it –

Akhos was moving as the man began hemorrhaging blood. Blue blood; blood overloaded by ether.

 _That should not have happened,_ Jin knew. He knew it down to his Core Crystal. Knew it in Lora's heart. _That should_ not _have happened!_

The man groaned as Akhos's healing Arts took effect. "So much for gettin' help with the farm," the man managed.

"Architect," Rhodri hissed. "Zimm!" Together the two went to assist.

"Get him home. Get him to bed," Akhos ordered. Nodding assent, Rhodri and Zimm worked to get the man clear. Others from the crowd moved to help.

"Was a good try, that! No shame in it! None at all!" the recruiter offered. "Not everyone brave enough has the knack. Who else wishes to test their mettle?"

"Jac," Jin heard Malos hiss, "can you close this down?"

"I figure I can, since – well, you know what. But why?" Jac asked, voice as quiet as Malos's. "That's what happens with a failed resonance."

 _Not it's not!_ something in Jin screamed. Jin could no more take his eyes off the Crystal than he could a hungry ferris. That – whatever that had been... it was a _threat_.

"Something's _wrong_ ," Malos insisted. "Have them shut it down. Now. Before someone gets hurt that Akhos _can't_ save."

Jac pushed around to the far side of the crowd. No one had dared to step up despite promptings. The soldiers switched off cajoling as Jac succeeded in getting the ranking soldier's attention. Whatever Jac had said, whatever he had shown the ranking officer, caused an immediate reaction.

" _What?!_ "

Jac held his ground. The lieutenant hissed something. Jac nodded affirmative. Hands tightening into fists, the lieutenant turned to the crowd.

"Fellow citizens! I've an apology to make to you all. I have unknowingly, and with great regret, put your brave lives in danger. I have just been informed that no less than the Aegis has confirmed the Core Crystals have been tampered with!"

"What?"

"How?"

"Tamper with a Core Crystal?"

"I assure you all, this is being investigated with utmost priority! Once –" The lieutenant raised his voice over the crowd's murmurs. "Once the sabotage has been found out, distribution of Core Crystals will resume."

"It's Indol! It has to be with their damn purification!"

"It's too soon to say," replied the lieutenant. "We will get you answers! For now, please, let us through."

Jac had successfully gotten back to them. "We should get ahead of them to base before I get court marshaled."

"Or stuck in a mob," Patroka hummed. Jin was relieved to see Millie had a tight grip of Patroka's hair. Falling here would hurt, in more ways than one.

"Let's move," Jin concurred.

"I take it you saw that... thing?" Akhos inquired, slipping into rear guard with Malos.

"Thing?" Yachink asked.

"Black slime thing? Except it wasn't slime and – hot?" Mikhail tried to describe it.

"It was ugly," Patroka concurred. Millie whimpered, clinging to Patroka.

"Whatever the hell it was, it will _not_ get near you," Malos promised, snarling like an affronted beast Blade. Patroka wordlessly lowered Millie so she was held securely in Patroka's arms.

"You saw it, Jin?" Mikhail asked.

"Yeah," Jin confirmed.

Mikhail pointed at Torna in general. "We saw it." Then pointed at Jac and his family. "Everyone else didn't." He looked over his shoulder at Malos; raised a questioning brow.

Possibly, yes. Their connection to Malos, through a shared history or shared Driver, could have something to do with... it. Their shared return from death could also have played a role. There were too many unknowns to be certain of anything.

The Torigoth base guard waived them in without demanding authentication.

"Should we head home, Jac?" Zelen asked.

Jac considered, visibly weighing what little he knew against the feel of the town. "No. Not without an escort. Stay brave for me a little longer."

"We'll try," Zelen promised on the siblings' behalf.

A voice cut across the grounds: "Driver Jac." A title and name made a command.

Malos moved ahead, putting himself bodily between Jac and the Ardanian in formal military whites heading for them. Jin felt more than saw Torna close ranks around Jac, his siblings, and Millie. Patroka set Millie on her feet next to Morca and stood by Yachink and Jac on their left. Akhos held the rear. Mikhail held their right. Jin held their front; the edge of their blade as Malos was their tip.

"Explain yourself," the Ardanian demanded.

"G-Grand Marshal," Jac sputtered, startled right out of protocol.

"I have already received the report from the recruitment team. Do not make me repeat myself, Private."

Malos stepped forward one step; just enough to demand attention without being an overt threat. Though if this man was the Grand Marshal of the Ardanian Army, he should have already known who Malos was _._

"You've got a problem," Malos said bluntly.

The man rested his hands behind his back. "I seem to have several, Aegis. Might you clarify?"

Politics and Malos were never good combinations. Malos held his temper; or rather used it to spectacular effect. That grin was...

"Your Core Crystals were screwed with."

"How?" A fair question.

"Hell would I know. But I can tell you this: Have someone who does not have a Blade try and resonate with them, you'll kill 'em. Have someone who _does_ have a Blade resonate with them – and it won't work."

The man rocked back on his feet. "Preposterous."

Malos let his grin do the talking.

"We'll test it. Now. Right here."

"Jac? You and Yachink game?" Malos asked. _Asked_ , not demanded.

Yachink gripped his Driver's shoulder. Jac got a steady, "Yes," out through knocking knees.

Jin steadied himself with a quiet breath. Now, all that can be done... was to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A warning before we end. I only have 16 chapters written and edited. So, I'm sorry to say, only two more chapters before I'm out of material to post. Given how the bunnies have been chewing on all the lovely comments thusfar, I hope this changes soon.


	15. Examinations

Malos had never thought he would say this... but Titan's armpit. He hated being right.

Jac had looked better. Right now he was spread out on a drop cloth, his head resting on Yachink's lap. Zelen, Morca, and Neel insisted trading off turns helping to hold a sack of ice to his forehead. There was a full thermos of ice water in easy grabbing distance, and Akhos had effectively blanketed the immediate area in fine-tuned lightning ether. Even then, Jac's complexion was as pale as Jin's hair. One fast move and he'd be getting a second taste of dinner. Out of respect for Jac and his kin, Torna had moved back as far as the gaping guards would allow.

At least the Grand Marshal or whoever the hell he was had gotten his shit together. Without asking for a repeat performance from another Driver or questioning further, the Grand Marshal has ordered all Driver recruitment shut down across the board. He had asked (more like ordered) them to stick around while he made some high up muckety muck calls.

"Anyone else getting freaked out?" Mikhail asked softly, eyes a little too wide.

Akhos pushed up his glasses. "I take it we all saw the black energy force take an encore performance with Jac?"

"And fail," Jin confirmed. "Yachink blocked it."

"Blocked its effects on Jac. For the most part," Akhos concurred, giving a sympathetic wince towards Jac.

"Resonance still didn't happen. Which is freaky," Patroka tacked on, holding Millie in one arm. Her weapon was in her free hand.

Mikhail rubbed his arms as if fighting off a chill. Malos demanded bluntly, "Out with it, Mik."

Mikhail considered bluffing; released the idea with an audible sigh. "Can't tell if the... the _prickle_ around my Core Crystal is related to that thing or just... the whole _me_ mess."

Right. Just what they didn't need. At least there was a quick way to figure this out.

Generating darkness typed ether, Malos let it flow around them. "Worse?"

Mikhail shuddered; Malos felt Mikhail suck down the ether like his brat left unsupervised with applesauce.

"Meh?" Mikhail tempered. Malos crossed his arms. Mikhail scrambles for words: "Still prickly but not as bad?"

Malos looked at Akhos. Taking his cue, Akhos slapped Mikhail upside he head. From a distance it looked like Akhos was getting Mik' back for a bad joke.

"Low ether," Akhos determined.

"Meditation again?" Mikhail asked Jin, expression that of a man faced with a non-lethal thing he very much did not want to do.

Jin's smile was soft with fond recollection of shit Malos had (at the time) found utterly inane. "We'll discuss options after this."

Right. This. Considering Malos couldn't let Mikhail wonder around half starved – they would need him if worst came to worst – Malos began slowly upping the darkness element ether in their immediate surroundings. It was a Blade-specific variant of what Akhos had set up for Jac – and seemed to work just as well. Mikhail still looked how he felt: Cold and shaken. But after a few seconds, he was no longer physically shaking.

"I've been thinking about _this_ ," Malos started. Hesitated, because he did not like his idea at all. "I need a deeper look at that Core Crystal."

Jin's eyes narrowed. "Would that put you at risk?"

"Bigger risk than being anywhere near it while we don't have a Titan shat clue what's going on?" Malos countered.

Jin frowned. He clearly liked the idea less than Malos, and just as clearly concurred the situation as it stood was untenable. But then Jin did something Malos had not expected.

"Millie?"

Malos's brat looked Jin in the eye, hands tightening on Patroka's outfit.

"What do you think?"

Millie's mouth turned down into a frown. The brat looked at nothing in specific; Malos could swear he heard gears tumbling over in her head. Jin asking him to trust his brat to start challenging her own limits was one thing. Ask her to form a coherent opinion on a situation this screwed? Jin was asking for --

"Malos," Millie said clearly. And then just as clearly pointed to herself, and then to the chest where the Grand Marshal had stuck the Crystal. While Malos was still getting over _that_ bombshell, Millie pointed at Mikhail. She got a, "Ick," out then pantomimed a nap.

Malos was not surprised everyone but Jin was struggling to get their jaws shut before bugs flew in. He was having a bit of trouble with his own mouth as it was. That was... that... _Titan's foot!_

"I agree. Mikhail does need to rest," Jin said. _Said_. Not talked around or ignored her presence. _Said_. Right to Millie herself. "We agree, also, that Malos should not investigate the Core Crystal alone. You think it best you go with him?"

Millie tapped her half of Malos's Core Crystal where it was hidden beneath her sun dress.

"A valid point. Malos?"

...oh Father. Jin wanted him to talk rationally? Snapping his jaw shut, Malos met Millie's serious look.

_Clue, idiot. Your brat is not stupid._

"Millie keeps an eye on Mikhail. Soldiers won't look twice at a guy being napped on by a toddler. Mikhail, Patroka, and Akhos cover Jac and his sibs. Jin?"

"Given this... thing... appears to be Aegis related, I'm unsure what assistance I can provide," Jin answered honestly. No sugar coating; no white lie to reassure. Honest, cold truth.

"Keep any idiots from trying to stop me," Malos suggested.

Millie frowned. She tapped her half of his Core Crystal again.

"I'll need both hands and no distractions," Malos countered. "Jin's good at crowd control."

Akhos got his mental footing under him: "And if things go spectacularly bad, we may need Millie's half of your Core Crystal to mount a rescue."

Shit. That was true. Unlikely (so help him Father), but true.

Millie frowned, not liking the idea, but not seeing a better argument. She tugged on Patroka's armor in time with a, "pack?"

"All right, all right," Patroka huffed, loudly, marching into Mikhail's personal space. "Nap time. Mik', take her. You know I suck at bedtime stories."

"No you don't," Mikhail countered, taking Millie when Patroka handed her off. Millie gave Malos a final frown, then turned her look on Jin.

"Shut up," Patroka ordered.

Jin pointedly eyed the few guards. Looked at Patroka. Deliberately raised an eyebrow.

Millie took the clue and ran with it. Gulping down a lungful of air, she screamed out a wail. And every guard had their eyes on her and Mikhail.

"Nap time. Definitely," Mikhail exaggerated. "Hey, Jac! We're invading your bed."

"'s too crappy for a bed," Jac moaned.

"Is it nap time or potty time?" Zelen asked seriously. "Dinner wasn't that long ago. Was it?"

"Mil'? What's your preference?" Mikhail asked.

Millie sniffled. She held out one hand flat, then smacked it against her fist. The unofficial bathroom signal – which reminded Malos they needed to start distributing the actual alpha design of –

"Now," Jin confirmed.

With all eyes off him, Malos headed for the target. Jin was a frosty shadow on his heels. Getting the chest open was easy. Had the Grand Marshal not expected anyone to snag it? Could be he was more rattled than he had let on. Forgetting to lock it sounded –

"Aegis!"

Speak of the Titan. The guy had at least six more men with him. All of them were heading for Malos and Jin. A good number were raising steam rifles, and not for salutes.

Jin took a knee and slapped the floor. Ice roared, an inverted avalanche smashing up from the ground into the ceiling. It was missing the clarity of absolute zero ice – but it curved around them into circle made of a single solid ice wall a pede thick. Short of an Archelon Titan unit, no one was getting through _that_ quick.

And Jin wasn't close to breathless. "That was... unexpected," Jin admitted.

"Hop a boat to Temperentia and go wild until we figure out our own damn limits?" Malos suggested, resting the Core Crystal on the box's lid.

"We might have to," Jin hummed.

Malos's grin bared teeth.

And then there wasn't time to grin. There was something wrong with this Core Crystal, and damned if Malos wasn't going to figure out what. Finding his center, Malos reached and _reached_ –

* * *

 

The so-called Grand Marshal stormed up to their little group like a man who'd just been mortally offended. "What does the Aegis think he's doing?"

Patroka affected to look bored (not hard; she _was_ bored). Mikhail was focusing on Millie (allegedly). There would be no help from Jac, his Blade, and his siblings. So. Adjusting his glasses, Akhos took the stage.

"The roles an Aegis plays are varied, and as broad as the Cloud Sea," Akhos dramatized.

"Do skip the purple prose," the Grand Marshal demanded. "Are you saying he's investigating the issue directly?"

"Yes," Akhos answered simply. The man had asked for a lack of exposition.

"And did it not occur to you – to _any_ of you," the man glared at Torna in general, "to simply _ask first?_ "

"''Tis quicker to ask forgiveness than permission," Akhos mused, smirking faintly. Let the man wind himself up into a mess; let him be rash, and make mistakes they could exploit. ...though it looked like there was at least one Archelon unit on the docks. That could make things... messy.

The man grit his teeth, and breathed deliberately. His voice when he spoke next lacked angry heat. "We have one hundred and fourteen Core Crystals scattered across the immediate Torigoth area. Forty seven are on base, counting the one confirmed as having been tampered with. I have given orders for all of them to be brought here so that the Aegis may examine them at his leisure."

No safe answer to that. So Akhos opted to cajole: "How considerate of you."

"Let's be frank. We both know Torna caused a near extinction level event a year ago. That your end goal was to mirror Temperentia across all of Alrest."

"Close but not quite," Akhos quipped, smirk growing wider.

"Pray, then. What was your endgame?"

"Why ever would I tell you?"

Was that cracking sound coming from Jin's ice? It seemed to be. Given how quick it had gone up, it must have been settling.

"The Emperor believes your organization had a change of heart."

"Being dead does that to a man," Akhos neither confirmed nor denied.

The Grand Marshal kept silent; calculating angles no doubt. Akhos watched, amused. Guessing at Torna's goals was a fruitless endeavor. Not even _Jin_ knew what their new direction was, after all.

A faint gasp sucked in Akhos’s full attention. It was a quiet gasp; a sound derived from shock instead of pain. Given the severity of their current situation, it may as well have been as loud as a shriek.

“Millie?” Mikhail asked softly. Turning to look, Akhos saw Mikhail bring his hand up to Millie’s cheek. The red blood along her nose and cheek drew a sharp oozing line of a sword’s tip barely missing its mark. Shuddering, Millie pressed herself tight against Mikhail’s chest.

The creak of Jin’s ice took an ominous new meaning.

“Get everyone back,” Akhos heard himself saying as his eyes were drawn to the creaking ice.

“What?” demanded the Grand Marshal.

“There’s no – _Patroka!_ ”

There wasn’t time to move. Wasn’t time to do much more than _pull_ on the atmospheric ether and pray. Patroka had understood – she _was_ Akhos’s sister after all – and had likewise yanked a shield up. A third and fourth shield formed a split second after theirs. The local ether fluctuated wildly, contorting out of rhythm horrifically enough it felt like Akhos’s Core Crystal was going to be ripped out of his chest (again). The ether twisted further out of joint to cause an atmospheric disturbances; a literal hurricane made from assorted types of ether. Distantly Akhos heard another pained gulp from his Driver. More immediately was the sound of Jin’s defenses shattering.

Akhos poured his will into the world and _forced_ the shield to hold. Another second more. Another –

“Malos!” Millie screamed over the world roaring.

The world – cracked. Hate boiled in the air, in Akhos’s lungs. Malice that drowned out the _now_ , replacing it with old memories. Memories of the malice which had filled him after his Driver had given up; after Akhos had eaten his Driver, only to find his Driver’s sister dead as well. So much sacrifice and for _nothing_. The world was useless. Empty. Void of all hope. Void of all reason to live. It was a pyre built upon his Driver – his _family’s_ bodies, and Akhos was more than willing to set it alight. One spark would be so easy. Kill the Grand Marshal, and war would start anew –

_Akhos!_

Akhos sucked in a breath of air saturated with darkness ether. Shaking the fuzz out of his head, Akhos took in his surroundings.

Good news: He was still standing. Patroka and Mikhail were likewise standing. Yachink was – well, after they got him out of the wall, he’d be fine. Jac had both arms around his siblings and had sheltered them low to the ground behind Patroka’s guard. The four of them looked bruised but otherwise unharmed. Various groans sounded around them, showing everyone else was likewise alive, though in no fit state to be kicking.

“What in Alrest was _that_?” Jac demanded.

“That,” Malos’s voice growled, “was Amalthus being a _bastard_.”

“Malos!” Mikhail gasped, adjusting his grip on Millie so as to start running towards Malos.

Surprise, surprise – the Aegis had cut identical to Millie’s on his nose and cheek. Aside from that, and the fact he was exhausted to the point he had to lean against Jin just to hobble forward, Malos appeared unharmed. There was also a glowing something in his right fist. Millie reached out for Malos as soon as Mikhail was close enough for her to try.

“Let Mik’ carry you a bit, brat. I’d drop you like this,” Malos requested.

Millie audibly pouted, but conceded. Her worried eyes flicked to Jin.

“I’m fine. Malos contained the blast,” Jin reported.

Lacking evidence to the contrary, Millie let Jin’s answer stand unchallenged.

“If that was contained,” Mikhail started to say. He deliberately stopped. “What did he do?”

“Rigged the Core Crystal to turn its own power in on itself. Any time a resonance tried to happen, the energy that would go into the Blade got redirected into the Core Crystal. It weakened the Blade and the backlash,” Malos faltered.

“Pretty sure we’ve got a good idea what the backlash looks like,” Mikhail quipped.

“What happened to the Blade?” Jin asked.

Malos hefted the faintly glowing Core Crystal. “Hey, Jac. Catch.”

Jac did a double take. Startled into moving, Jac caught the flying Core Crystal before it could bounce off his head.

Golden light surged around Jac and the Core Crystal. It built upwards, brightening the emotional darkness that had been left behind. Visceral joy hummed on the wind. An ax whipped around Jac and his siblings, missing them by a safe margin. It spun in an eye-catching frenzy until it implanted itself into the ground at Jac’s side.

“ _ **I AM ZENOBIA!**_ ” boomed the storm winds.

“Oh Architect,” Patroka hissed, giving voice to the drop Akhos felt in his gut. “ _Her_.”

At first blush Zenobia had not changed since the last time Akhos had seen her, which was decidedly in the _bad news_ category. The constant flow of wind ether around the striking woman kept her lengthy hair in a halo above her head. It likewise kept the massive scarf plastered to her chest so as to keep her from having a serious modesty issue. Her half skirt belled around her slim hips, the feathers of Zenobia’s stubby wings acting as green accents to the white material. Wind ether green eyes sparkled, taking in Jac and his siblings.

“So you’re my new Driver, eh? Neat!” Zenobia crowed at a far less eardrum shattering volume. “Tell me what’s your occupation? Adventurer? Pirate? Ooh – monster hunter!”

“Ardanian soldier,” Jac managed to answer.

Zenobia pouted. “Aw. That means you can’t go looking for fights!” The wind mistress perked. “But you can ask for monster hunting assignments, right? Right? Something with a challenge!”

“Hasn’t changed an inch,” Akhos agreed. He looked pointedly at Patroka. “Tell me you’re not even considering it.”

“...maybe,” Patroka admitted. “Later. A lot later.”

“Just keep in mind Jac’s family is devious enough to come up with a way to kill us if we let things get out of hand,” Akhos reminded Patroka.

“How come you’re nakie?” asked Neel.

Zenobia floated back on the winds, startled. “I’m what?”

“You’re nakie,” Neel repeated innocently. “Did the explosion rip your shirt up? ‘s that why your boobies are just kinda…?”

“Neel,” Jac shushed the child kindly.

“You need a shirt,” Zelen decided. There was an air of finality to her statement.

“I – what?” Zenobia blinked, looking down at her outfit (or lack of same).

“You _need_ a shirt,” Morca agreed. “Jac? Can we go home with your new Blade to get her a shirt? At least one of your old ones fer now. When the market’s open again tomorrow we’ll get her a right proper outfit. That one must be bloody drafty.”

“Drafty?” Zenobia echoed.

“And cold,” Zelen tagged on. Looking up at Jac, she asked, “May we, big brother?”

“Not yet, ‘m afraid,” Jac answered. “The Grand Marshal is going to have a lot of questions. He won’t want to let anyone leave just yet.”

“Tough shit,” Malos snarled. “Its past my brat’s bed time. Its past _my_ bed time. And I got a headache the size of a Titan cannon unit. Unless the Grand Marshal wants an explosion that does actual damage in the heart of his nice shiny base, he’s _going_ to let us leave.”

Akhos didn’t voice his theory that Malos was unable to do much more than growl at the moment. The rest of Torna, however, was quite willing to blow things to hell if necessary.

“Might you agree to a compromise?” tentatively asked a – hum. Was that a lieutenant or a general? The hat was point enough to be either and there was no visible rank insignia. He got five words out: “There are plenty of bunks –”

“What part of _we’re leaving_ isn’t clear?” Malos demanded.

“N-Not a word wasn’t,” sputtered the soldier. “W-When would be a good time tomorrow for the Grand Marshal to call on you, sirs?”

“After breakfast,” Akhos quipped.

“Eleven hundred hours, then. G-Good night, sirs. Ma’ams. Driver Jac.” And the solider wisely started clearing a path. Any more interruptions, and they just might wind up with soldiers lost in the line of duty.

“...does that mean we go home now?” Neel asked.

Jac swallowed. “Guess so? Ya--” Jac rose to his feet with concern, his voice likewise rising. “Yachink!” Scrambling, he headed for his first Blade.

Zenobia made a dramatic flourish with her hand. Wind ether slipped around Yachink’s body. With a light _pop_ , the less powerful Blade was pulled free of the wall. The winds were gentle as they lowered Yachink to the ground on his back. Zenobia herself walked over at a less than hurried pace; Jac’s siblings followed in her wake.

Jac levered Yachink so that the Blade’s head rested in his lap. Yachink groaned; his eyes fluttered slowly open.

“Sir…?” Yachink managed. Gasping, he sat upright. “Your siblings!”

“We’re alright, Yachink!” Morca promised.

Yachink sighed, “Thank the Architect.” And then the fact Morca was standing behind an unknown registered. Yachink looked up – and up, from his position on the ground. “...you’re sir’s second?”

“That’s me!” Zenobia crowed, hands on her hips and chest puffed out. “The name’s Zenobia!”

“We’re gonna get her a shirt,” Zelen assured Yachink. Zenobia’s proud expression deflated.

“Something more befitting military regulations, I hope,” Yachink managed around a chuckle.

“You’re alright, Yachink?” Jac demanded.

“A bit sore from impact,” Yachink admitted. “My Core Crystal wasn’t damaged. I’m alright to move.”

“Then let’s go already,” Malos demanded. Millie added her own agreement with a quiet whimper.

“I think I’m gonna like him,” Zenobia guessed.

“You’ll have to fight the rest of us first to get to Malos,” Patroka warned, hefting her weapon. Akhos slapped a palm to his face.

Zenobia’s grin had too many teeth and she was clearly gleeful about the prospect.

“Why, sister mine?” Akhos quietly demanded.

“Shut up. I’m bored,” Patroka snapped.

Architect help them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one thing that really irked me about the Blade designs was the clothing -- or acute lack of same.
> 
> The other thing that irked me was the lack of Drivers! If the Architect is going to tie such a critical part of Alrest's very existence in with an absolute need to have Drivers, it would go to figure there should be more Drivers then are shown in game. Ergo, something happened either to the "knack" that allows a human to wake a Blade... or to the Core Crystals.


	16. Waking

His brat was wrapped in a blanket and snoring, oblivious to the world. Seemingly oblivious, anyway: If Malos even thought of moving her from her spot, Millie would start fussing. The brat did not want Malos out of her sight nor out of her grip. Not that Malos was complaining, exactly. His brat using him for a bed was kinda cute and wasn't a complete inconvenience given Malos himself was about ten seconds from dropping. Still... A pillow would have been preferable, right?

Closing his eyes, Malos let himself settle. Even if Millie did have one of those thrashing night terrors, she wouldn't fall and break her neck or something. Malos has his brat secure. He could just... drift...

A warm breeze preceded a soft hand brushing his cheek.

"What happened?" Mythra asked gently.

Malos turned his head; he didn't have the energy to pull away. "Amalthus was a sick son of a volff."

"Tell me something we don't know," Mythra quipped, smiling softly.

"He rigged the Core Crystals he _purified_ to kill themselves and their Drivers. Potential Drivers. Got this," Malos jabbed his thumb towards the healing wound, "defusing one Core Crystal."

No jokes. No _are you sure_ s. Cold, serious acceptance met Malos's deceleration.

"Give me what you got," Mythra requested.

Acquiescing, Malos focused. The memories on how he'd done... what he'd done were indistinct. The _data_ , though, was pristine. Gathering it all into a single packet, Malos held his hand over Mythra's Core Crystal – and transmit.

Mythra closed her eyes, sorting the packet as it was received. Malos could tell she'd gotten to the _self-destruct_ part when her features screwed up into a snarl. At length, the light Aegis opened her eyes.

"If that man wasn't dead, I think I'd kill him," Mythra spat.

"It'd be a mercy kill," Malos agreed. That anyone could get so twisted up inside to – well. Malos didn't have much room to talk did he? His family, _his_ Torna, had been – was? Father, Malos hoped not – just as sick, sad, and sore.

But they weren't _broken._ The determination to make sure they weren't was a lump in his guts as heavy as it was heady. Helping someone he cared about was so freaking hypocritical. But it... It felt right. Hell, what else was he going to do, die? Let them commit suicide again? Titan's crap _no_.

"I'm still in Alba Cavanich. I'll get with Mòrag and Brighid to start shutting down recruitment until all the Core Crystals from Indoline can be checked. There might be a less explosive way to –"

"What?" Malos demanded. Mythra did not just _stop_ talking without a reason. And she didn't go as pale as her outfit, either.

"Niall is going to wake a Blade. Today. Shit – right _now_."

The Emperor incapacitated would be bad given all the crap the world was stewing in. Without a word, Malos stepped back, cutting their network connection on his end. Darkness spiraled in and stars lit his perceptions. The inside of his own head was just as blank as ever, it seemed.

Malos drifted in his own head for a bit – minutes? Hours? Asleep like this made time difficult to gauge.

"There you are."

A warm fire and hopeful light turned the blankness into a grassy field under a night sky. Grass pillowed his head as Malos found himself laying on dirt.

"Sorry for messing with it, but... Well. It seemed cold," Pyra apologized, coming to sit beside him.

"I'm not exactly a warm person," Malos hummed, sitting up.

"No. You weren't."

Malos barked a laugh. "You think I'm warm now?"

Pyra folded her hands over her Core Crystal. "I think," she said softly, each word deliberate as a cook's fire, "that after the Aegis War, you started to thaw. Jin saw that potential in you, and took your hand. Rex saw it, too, which is why he pushed himself to save you. I think whatever happened when you died, it shattered what ice was left, leaving behind stars."

"Stars," Malos repeated.

"Mmm-hum. Stars." Pyra looked up at the stars above. "Stars are bright, lighting the night sky for those who need them. They're held at a distance, but that doesn't mean they aren't warm."

Malos stared at her. Sighing, he flopped back to the dirt. "Philosophy sucks."

Pyra's chuckle made a smile tug at Malos's lips. They stayed there in comfortable silence in a way they never would have been able to before.

"I repaired his Core Crystal," Pyra said simply.

"His?" Malos asked.

"Sever."

Oh. ...oh. "I'm not going to trap him again," Malos decided. "Find him a Driver that won't take crap and doesn't mind a Blade who works solo. Rex and his band of mercs would work."

"Actually, I was thinking Niall."

Malos snorted at the mental picture.

"There's already been two close calls with assassination attempts. Having an independent Blade would be an asset," Pyra noted.

"Cressidus and Perdido," Malos suggested. "I'll get with Mikhail and Patroka in the morning. Don't put Obrona on the Emperor's short list. Father, she'd _loath_ that kind of stick in the mud lifestyle."

Pyra nodded, taking him seriously. "Could you be at the Torigoth base today by eleven?"

"Probably. The Grand Marshal idiot has _questions_. Hell if I know how to answer. It's not like I even understand what I did."

"Tell him the truth: You performed an Aegis's secondary function. One of the ones Father sealed to prevent tampering. You can do it, but Father's injunction prevents talking about _how_ you do it."

Malos snorted, "Even if I could get it into words, I don't think he'd be able to comprehend it. Hell, not even a normal Blade could. ...right?"

"All signs point to: Yes," Pyra confirmed. "It deals pretty deeply with Blade core coding. That's not simple stuff. Mythra is working on how to undo it without the fireworks."

"Good luck," Malos wished sincerely.

Pyra's smile was rueful and short. Frowning, Pyra sighed, "If only we knew how Amalthus had managed to effect so many Core Crystals over such a short period of time."

"Hell," Malos agreed. "You're right. The timing's all wrong for the level of damage I saw. Indol's so-called purification protocol has only been active for the past three hundred years."

"Give or take a decade, according to Brighid. You know, as Royal Blades, she and Aegaeon were exempt from the treaty that handed control of Core Crystals to the Praetorium?"

"That probably saved their lives."

"I think so, too."

A distant tug pulled on Malos's attention. Nothing that _felt_ urgent. Closing his eyes, Malos tapped his physical senses. A familiar ether presence was picking up his brat.

"Breakfast calling?" Pyra guessed.

"Patroka 's giving Millie a hand. Breakfast probably isn't far off."

Funny. Malos didn't want to leave the companionable company of his sister. A year ago, he would have... But that was then. Now, with a Driver that needed _him_ , Malos felt himself content in a way that words couldn't capture.

"So how is it being alive?"

Breathing in, Malos let the network connect dissolve. Being alive... wasn't half bad.

...why was there a flutter in the local darkness typed ether?

Getting out of bed, Malos traced the disturbance to its source. Not hard: It was right above his head. Literally right above his head. Mikhail was seated in a half lotus position on his bed, eyes closed, breathing steadily. To say his posture was tense would have been a polite understatement. If the blond had been wound any tighter, he could have been used for a spring.

"You're tying too hard, kid," Malos pointed out.

Blurting a tangled knot that might have been a, " _holyshitdon'tdothat_ ," Mikhail scrambled for his weapon. Too scattered, the weapon crystal shattered into ether before forming. The resultant backlash coupled with Mikhail's precarious mid-scramble posture sent the human-turned-Blade pitching backwards. Even Malos winced at the _crack_ of Mikhail's skull impacting the wall.

"You still alive?" Malos asked.

"Ow," drifted faintly up from the not-a-corpse. Sitting up and rubbing his abused cranium, Mikhail declared firmly, "I hate meditation."

"You suck at it," Malos agreed.

"Which is why I hate it." Hanging his head, Mikhail looked – damn it. He looked _depressed._

"You're not going to get your shit together in a day, Mikhail, so quit trying."

Mikhail rubbed the back of his head, giving a smile that looked – nope. The emotions touching the ether betrayed the smile to be a genuine fake. Father, did Malos suck at pep talks. And seeing Mikhail look so hangdog made all of Malos's unfamiliar _protect the brat_ instincts sit up and snarl.

"Screw it," Malos sighed, "we both suck at this whole dealing with feelings shit."

"Yeah," Mikhail agreed. "But, no, really, I'm fine –"

"No, you're not fine. _None of us_ are _fine_ ," Malos countered. "We're one big screwed up family. But we _are_ family, Mikhail. No one in Torna is going to turn around and dump you just because you're tripping over your own damn feet."

"Even though I'm the weakest link?" Mikhail asked. And looked immediately like he regretted it.

"Where did that come from?" Malos demanded. The blond looked away; started trying to say something other than an answer. "Deflect me on this, Mikhail, and your head will be reintroduced to that wall."

Mikhail deflated. "Yesterday. When things went," Mikhail mimed a mini explosion with one hand. "I felt... really depressed. Like all the energy had been sucked out of the room. Like if I hadn't been holding Millie, I'd have been useless. And that... kinda stuck. Right now I'm... Yeah."

Shit. Malos was not equipped with the skill sets to handle this level of screwed.

"Stay right there. _Right_. There," Malos ordered.

"Buh-" Mikhail started to move.

Malos flared ether. " _Stay_."

Mikhail stayed.

Keeping from voicing out loud a low string of curses at Amalthus in specific and the universe in general was not too difficult. Keeping his expression neutral instead of _kill it now_ was a different story. At least the inn's main area was empty of guests aside from Torna.

"Problem?" Jin demanded immediately.

"Just more of the usual," Malos growled. Ah-ha. _There_ was Patroka and Malos's brat. "Brat. Need your help with a project."

"A project?" Patroka echoed, one hand on her cocked hip as she eyed Malos.

Millie had started toddling over as soon as she'd seen Malos. At his request, she almost managed a run. Reaching down before her still imperfect balance could betray her, Malos scooped up his brat.

"Don't hold up breakfast; this shouldn't take long," Malos stated, heading back for Mikhail. He didn't need to see them to know Jin and Patroka were exchanging looks.

Good. Mikhail hadn't moved any further than to make himself more comfortable. His expression was a study in confusion as Mikhail saw Malos's companion. "Er...?"

"Brat. Mikhail needs a damn big hug," Malos informed Millie.

Millie nodded solemnly. Without a fuss, she let Malos haul her up to the top bunk, and crawled immediately into Mikhail's lap. Once she was seated, Millie clamped both arms around Mikhail's middle and hugged him tight. Mikhail for his part blinked in confusion, gingerly returning the hug.

"Try it again," Malos ordered.

Mikhail blinked.

"Screw the meditation thing. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. Just try to channel ether to your Driver," Malos directed.

"But I –" Mikhail started to say.

Malos grasped for straws and came up with bullshit. Rolling his eyes, he decided to just freaking try it.

"Ether is in every element in existence. It's the stuff that gives that element its potency. Every element of ether has its own song, and every location has its own variant. You don't make the music match a dance, right? You make a dance match the music."

"Ah..." Mikhail tried. Blinked. Looked down at Millie. "That actually made sense," he told the toddler.

Millie gave Mikhail a _look_. A look encapsulating, _How could you doubt my Big? He always makes sense!_

Malos was not going to blush, damn it. Clearing his throat, Malos ordered, "Try again, Mikhail."

Closing his eyes, Mikhail tried to clear his head. His expression puckered into a confused frown. Absently, after maybe a minute of just sitting there, Mikhail rested both hands on Millie's shoulders, returning her hug. The darkness ether in the room flickered – for lack of a better descriptor – swaying from its patterns. Mikhail's puckering frown softened with concentration. And then broke into wonder as ether channeled through Mikhail into the ether link – into Mikhail's Driver.

The link was a thin blue strand barely strong enough to call it a link. But it was there; a tangible reality Mikhail could grab hold of.

It lasted for ten seconds before dissipating.

Breathing out, Mikhail opened his eyes. "...it really was like dancing," he chuckled, voice soft with awe.

"Keep practicing. When you can do it without Millie as an anchor, you'll be set," Malos figured.

"Right," Mikhail nodded absently. Squeezing Millie's shoulder with one hand, Mikhail asked, "You free tomorrow morning?"

Millie hugged Mikhail.

"Taking that as a yes," Mikhail chuckled.

Patroka shouted from the hall, "Hey! If you want breakfast, you'd better hurry up!"

Malos rolled his eyes. Mikhail proved he had a death wish by caroling, "Coming my love!"

Just another day with Torna.

* * *

 

Mikhail felt like bouncing. Mmm... More like he'd gotten a whole pot of coffee to go with breakfast. He was perky and awake – and he could still hear the ether humming. It had grown fainter over the last few hours; but it was still there. Still where Mikhail could dance with it if he needed or wanted to.

"Whoa," Patroka hissed.

Stopping, Mikhail looked at what had caught Patroka's attention. And had to smother a chuckle. _Whoa_ was an accurate assessment of Zenobia in a green and tan shirt that had been butchered into a tank top.

"They were persistent," Zenobia defended herself, arms crossed self consciously.

"No need to guess who," Akhos snickered softly, adjusting his glasses. From his arms, Millie likewise giggled.

Jac let his new Blade stew without drawing further attention to her. "All set to meet the Grand Marshal?"

Akhos took over as unofficial spokesperson: "Since it seems we must."

Jac nodded. And thankfully he was still dressed like an average Gormotti. Seeing him in armor would have been... weird. Thinking on it, Mikhail really couldn't picture Jac in an Ardanian tin can uniform.

_Those helmets must be murder on his ears._

"Mikhail?" Jin inquired. From _right next_ to Mikhail. When the hell had he gotten there?

"You and Malos do that on purpose," Mikhail accused. At Jin's look, Mikhail clarified, "The whole sneaking up on people thing."

"If you weren't distracted," Malos sung out, snickering.

Mikhail articulated his counter argument with a raised finger. The result was Malos barking out a bright laugh. ...which was kinda freaky. No death, destruction, or mayhem, _and_ they were heading into enemy territory – and Malos was _amused?_

"I get the feeling Malos is up to something," Mikhail mused.

Jin hummed an affirmative, looking ruefully concerned. "Aegis secrets," Jin assumed.

"...should I be ready to shield?" Mikhail asked. Jin chuckled. Mikhail pouted, "No. Seriously. Should I?"

Jin judged their group, the guards as they arrived, and Malos in specific. "No. I don't think there will be that kind of trouble."

Mikhail honestly couldn't figure out if Jin was an eternal optimist or what. Yeah, things were... different. But they weren't that different. ...were they?

The Grand Marshal had his left arm in a sling and a scowl on his face. There were also a fine line of stitches across a day old gash in his scalp. Jac stopped at a regulated distance and did a proper Ardanian stomping salute, Yachink matching him step for step. 'Course, Mikhail knew crap about Ardanian military protocols. For all he knew, Jac had flubbed it.

"Driver Jac reporting sir!" Jac announced clearly.

"You are out of uniform, Driver," the Grand Marshal tisked. "Special circumstances these may be. But for a report, I expect you properly attired."

Jac kept his eyes forward and chin up, answering only with a, "Sir!" Zenobia crossed her arms in a clear wish to tell the Grand Marshal where to stuff it.

"We're keeping him as an escort, you know," Mikhail stuck in. "Not often you find an Army jug head in _any_ nation you can actually like."

The Grand Marshal glared.

 _Go ahead, pal. I'm standing next to the Aegis. I got you outgunned and we all know it_ , Mikhail dared privately. Malos snorted down a laugh, which caught the Marshal's attention.

The Grand Marshal turned back to Jac. "Report to the quartermaster for a fresh uniform, Driver. You will then report to the training grounds for mixed drills."

Jac stomped an Ardanian salute with a clear, "Sir!" Making a crisp turn, Jac headed off to wherever the heck the quartermaster was. Yachink and Zenobia followed after, Zenobia pausing long enough to glare her displeasure at the Grand Marshal.

"What time is it?" Malos asked conversationally in a pointed aside.

"Fifteen to eleven," Akhos answered. Must have been a timepiece somewhere, because Mikhail did not see Akhos check a watch.

"Fifteen minutes," Malos hummed.

"Fifteen minutes until what, if I may ask, Aegis?" demanded the Grand Marshal.

Malos's grin had Mikhail checking for emergency exits.

The Grand Marshal waited a polite beat. Then he wisely (or foolishly; too soon to tell) pressed on. "All of the Core Crystals we have which have undergone Indol's purification protocol have been gathered inside. I would request, Aegis Malos, that you examine them immediately."

"No."

...yeah, they were going to need to run.

"Enlighten me, if you please," requested the Grand Marshal. "You were swift to assist us –"

"Assist _Jac_ ," Malos corrected. "He stuck his neck out on a hunch at my request. Fixing it then was paying a debt. Now?" Malos shrugged, a nonverbal scoff of, _I don't owe you anything, sucker._

The Grand Marshal hummed, drawing himself up in preparation for (verbal) war.

A soldier with an exceptionally pointy hat raced out of the docked Titan battleship. Floundering into a salute, the soldier sputtered, "G-Grand Marshal, sir!"

"Yes?" said the less than amused Grand Marshal.

"The – th-th-the Emperor is calling, sir!"

"A whole ten minutes early," Malos snarked.

Mikhail had two questions he had to swallow: How the hell had Malos known about that? And more importantly, how the hell could Mikhail get in on it next time? The look on the stuffed shirt's face was _priceless_.

"Very well. See to it our guests --"

"S-s-sir! His Highness is asking to speak to yourself _and_ to T-T-Torna!"

Oooh. Name dropped by the Emperor himself! This kept up, they'd be _popular_.

"I see," said the oblivious Grand Marshal. He turned to look at all of Torna; the look lingered a little too long on Millie. "All of them I presume."

"Yes, s-sir," affirmed the messenger. His voice dropped: "He asked we make sure a Lady Millie was included."

Millie perked, recognizing her name in conjunction with Something Important. Malos snickered quietly but obviously. Architect, Mikhail _was_ going to have to grill him later.

The Grand Marshal marshaled himself, keeping a sigh locked behind his teeth. "This way, gentlemen. Ladies."

Term used _very_ loosely with Patroka and acerbically with Millie. Mikhail wasn't sure if he should be impressed by the man's chutzpah, or get on writing the man's epitaph. Did it count as an honorable death to be smitted by an Aegis?

 _Smitted? Smote? Smite? The hell is the past tense of – ooh,_ Mikhail rubbed his hands in glee, _paydirt!_

This was not the most advanced room in the Titan. That would have been up on the bridge and in the on-ship war room. _This_ room, though, was a good second runner for most secure area. A cursory glance turned up salvaged tech that had been modified significantly. Oh, hey!

“An old Judecium circuit board! Oh, wow, what did you guys _do_ to it?” Mikhail wondered gleefully. “Is this a coperlink cable? This is a coperlink cable. You – you seriously routed a coperlink cable through the memory buffer? Interesting choice.”

“Mikhail,” Jin paged.

“Mmm?”

“One level left.”

Holy –! “Where on Alrest did you find one of these? Its Old Tornan!” Which explained how Jin had recognized it so swiftly. Everything Mikhail knew about Old Tornan tech, Jin had taught him. And what Jin hadn’t taught him, Mikhail had taught himself by banging his head against it in the Monoceros.

“Classified.”

Mikhail rolled his eyes. Of course it was classified. “Can’t blame you. Stuff like this went down with Torna. No one’s made anything close ever since.”

Which, on the one hand, Mikhail wanted to be proud of that. Torna was the Golden Country of his memories. That no country before or since had come close to Torna’s achievements was amazing. On the other hand, the fact _no one since_ had come close was… kind of depressing. It felt like humans had slipped backwards chasing after ghosts instead of moving forward chasing after dreams. And down that path were thoughts of Amalthus, his sermons, and – no. Stepping away from the goodies with a grin firmly held in place, Mikhail sauntered back over to Torna. To his _family_.

“How long would it take you to take this place apart?” Akhos wondered, fussing with his glasses.

“Apart so it could be put back together again, or Malos’s preferred version?” Mikhail asked. The Grand Marshal visibly winced. Akhos pretended not to notice, gesturing for Mikhail to continue. “Eh. With you, Jin, and Patroka helping, a couple of months. Wouldn’t even need Malos to lift a finger if you wanted this place toast. They’ve got crap surge protectors.”

Akhos grinned smugly, moving to push up his glasses. Millie helping out by pushing his glasses up for him caused his grin to drop from smug to amused. “Brat,” Akhos chuckled, poking Millie in the nose. The toddler giggled gleefully, wrinkling her nose and leaning back in Akhos’s grip so as to escape Akhos’s continued poking.

Hearing Millie giggle, “Jin!” and hold her arms to Torna’s center for a rescue melted Mikhail’s heart.

Jin obliged their Driver. Stepping closer, Jin bat Akhos’s next poke off course with his right hand, slipped his left around Millie’s middle, shifted Millie from Akhos’s hold to his own, and stepped back. The whole process took a handful of seconds and earned him a giggling ovation.

“Knew you were still a hero, Jin.”

...oh Architect. Jin had gone three shades paler. Mikhail felt just as pale. Malos looked – Mikhail couldn’t place his expression. It wasn’t surprise. For a blink Malos had looked… melancholy? Sad? Trying to figure it out would have to wait because Mytrha’s voice had come from right behind them. Turning, Mikhail tried to figure out – oh.

The Grand Marshal looked _smug_. Which – fair was fair. Activating the receiver when he had _was_ devious in its own way. Everyone on the other end had gotten a good long look of Torna being goofy over their toddler; blackmail material gold, and everybody present knew it. Mythra’s choice of words, though… Past tense? Jin had _always_ been a hero. Even after – no. Even _because_ of everything that had happened, Jin was _still_ a hero. He could never cease to be a hero. Not to Mikhail. And Mikhail was going to get his brain back in gear and tell Mythra off for being an asshat.

“Thought you said at eleven,” Malos demanded.

Well. That neatly cut Mikhail’s options for telling off Mythra in the quick.

“Thought you said you’d talk to them after breakfast,” Mythra countered, crossing her arms and grinning. Mikhail had to give credit where it was due: The signal quality was pretty good. Easily running at eighty frames per second without lag. And the projector made it seem like the bare far wall was an actual screen.

“Got a late start. What’s your excuse?” Malos parried.

“Got up early to look at the Core Crystals. You checked the batch in Torigoth? Right,” Mythra rolled her eyes, answering her own question, “forget I even asked. _Will_ you check that batch in Torigoth?”

“Don’t see a reason why I should waste my time,” Malos mused.

“Don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t. It’d take twenty minutes, an hour at most, to do a cursory scan.”

“Followed by another two hours spitting out the data for these idiots. And don’t pretend we won’t have to do the same song and dance for Uraya and every other power Indol flipped over its knee. It’ll take too long with minimal results.”

“If we don’t start somewhere, we won’t be able to figure out a way to repair the damage _en mass_. And if we don’t get every power involved, Indol will _stall_. Or worse.”

“Dismantle or disrupt whatever the hell they used to do this. Yeah, yeah, I get that. Still don’t see why I should waste my time _here_ when hitting up Indol directly --”

“Will somebody please punch him for me?” Mythra requested. No one moved. Rolling her eyes, Mythra charged on: “Come on, Malos! No matter how much you’ve acted like one, you’re _not_ an idiot. You get within a Titan pede of Indol, they will throw everything they have at you. Without any Artifices you’ll be flattened so hard _Millie_ will feel it _and you know it_!”

“Tch,” Malos scoffed. Crossing his arms, he growled, “ _Fine_. I’ll run the scan. _If_ you get your contacts in Uraya and Mor Ardain to make their damn politicians _useful_ for a change.”

Mythra likewise crossed her arms. “Last I heard, its already in the works on the Mor Ardain side of things. The Senate is taking up a measure to sue Indol for attempted regicide of Emperor Niall Ardanach.”

“Indirect assassination. Hard to prove intent when the Core Crystals were more or less randomly distributed.” Malos’s grin gained teeth. “How many actual assassinations is the boy king up to now?”

“Since you left, or just this morning?” Mythra riposted.

“Wow. Like watching a tennis match,” Patroka quipped in an aside. Akhos hummed agreement as he nudged his glasses.

"Your serve, Patroka," Malos snarked.

Patroka did a double-take. "Excuse me?"

"That's one way to change the subject," Mythra sighed. Uncrossing her arms, Mythra stood a hair straighter. "Patroka. Mikhail. Perdido and Cressidus. I fixed their Core Crystals."

"You fixed their..." Patroka trailed off, processing the succinct words.

Mikhail blinked. "Cressidus is okay?"

"He's still a Core Crystal, but yeah, he's fine." Mythra looked over at Akhos. "Obrona's Core Crystal is fixed, too. So's Sever's."

Cressidus... Mikhail owed him; a lot. It had been Jin who had suggested him – the _only_ time Jin had suggested a member of Torna resonate with a Blade. The big lug had been solid as a rock, and had... He'd taught Mikhail so much that Jin just _couldn't_. The goofball had played a large part in saving Mikhail's sanity. It'd be nice to see him again, even though he wouldn't remember.

"Give the word, and a Garfont merc will be on their way with them within the hour," Mythra promised.

Mythra was a like Rex: When she made a promise like that, she meant it. Mikhail felt his heart jump.

"Millie would be the one who would have to resonate with them," Akhos realized

That wouldn't be too... oh. That might be a problem. Cressidus was happiest when he could help his Driver excel, and Millie... Right now – probably for the next two decades, maybe – Millie had all the help she could handle. Inside a month, Cressidus would be miserable. It'd be great to see him... but it'd be terrible to see him miserable.

"You're not just bringing this up to be sweet," Patroka pointed out. "And no matter how buddy-buddy you are with the Emperor, no way would be allow you to play with his fancy toys unsupervised."

Mikhail's stomach dropped at Mythra's shit eater grin.

The signal source flickered. Then just as abruptly was replaced by a wide lens signal of the Imperial Throne. A throne occupied by a kid who couldn't be older than ten decked up in full imperial regalia. Who had Mythra snickering next to him in a prankster's unholy glee.

"Greetings," said Emperor Niall.

Jin recovered first. Without missing a beat, he nodded, replying in kind, "Your Majesty."

"I am sorry circumstances contrived to prevent us from meeting in person during your earlier visit to the capital," the Emperor stated. The kid sounded so sincere, too. "I must further apologize for disrupting whatever schedules you had planned for today. I thank you for your time."

"Wait we had plans?" Mikhail blurted. ...at least the looks he got from the others made Millie giggle. Sheesh.

The Emperor's smile was as genuine as Millie's giggle, but lasted for too short a time. "Aegis Malos. You inquired earlier how many assassination attempts I have faced thus far. To my knowledge, there have been six attempts on my life this morning."

"Half of those were before he'd gotten out of bed," Mythra tagged on.

Damn. The life of royalty sucked.

As if he could tell what Mikhail was thinking, Emperor Niall nodded in agreement. "I am in need of a sword, a shield, and a dagger in the dark. Given the level of tampering suspected, I cannot select such from the general pool of Core Crystals."

Mikhail went blank. A sword, a shield, and --

"Perdido?" Patroka snorted. Laughter bubbled up from her in a way that had Mikhail wanting to back off, fast. "You're seriously asking _us_ if _you_ can resonate with our Blades?"

"They were your companions. I consider it not but common courtesy to ask your permission to become their Driver."

Hell of it was, he said it so sincerely. The signal made it impossible to be certain, but... But from what Mikhail could see, the kid was genuine. The _Emperor_ of _Mor Ardain_ was being dead serious.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. "I see. So _this_ is how you've managed to keep the highest positive opinion polls among the populace in six generations. You mean every word that comes out of your mouth." Akhos's voice darkened and his posture tensed. "Don't you dare awaken Obrona."

"I will not," the Emperor promised. "Her Core Crystal has already been secured for transport to Torigoth."

"Give Sever a long leash and stand up to him when he pulls crap, and you'll have your," Malos snickered the next words, "dagger in the dark."

He was.... He was legit asking if...

"How's your comfort level with hugs?" Mikhail asked.

The Emperor blinked.

Mikhail shrugged, trying to maintain some nonchalance around the lump in his throat. This was just a kid he was talking to. A kid who... Architect. Mikhail knew his life was screwed up. But this kid? This kid already had to deal with _assassins_. And from that faint flinch in time with the clueless blink – Titan's _foot_. Could this kid even allow himself to _be_ a kid?

"Cressidus is a good shield. Solid as earth." Mikhail swallowed down that blasted lump. "But he's also not shy about coddling somebody who needs it. You wake Cressidus, you better be ready for hugs. Rib cracking hugs. Second he sees you depressed, he _will_ pick you up and _carry_ you. I mean that literally."

Emperor Niall nodded. "I will take your words under advisement."

Patroka rolled her eyes. "Not like I care," which meant she did, "but Perdido is a _weapon_. You wake him, you had better damn _use him_."

"I understand," Emperor Niall stated solemnly, as seriously as if he were dealing with state business. "I thank you for your trust."

"Yeah, whatever," Patroka flapped her hand at the screen, giving the Emperor her back. Millie made a concerned coo and looked up at Jin. Serious Adult Business was out of her depth – and outside her current context. Jin shook his head, signaling for quiet.

"Can we come visit 'em?" Mikhail blurted.

"Of course," Emperor Niall affirmed without even a blink.

Mikhail nodded, comforted.

"I thank you for your time. Aegis Malos?"

Malos looked at the screen and arched an eyebrow, showing the boy Emperor he had his attention.

"I understand the analysis of the Core Crystals presently in Torigoth base will take some time. I wish to insure you are compensated appropriately for your actions."

Malos hummed. "I don't come cheep."

"Indeed. You are an Aegis know for your distinctions."

...holy Titan spit. The kid had just _teased Malos_. And Malos let him off with a laugh!

"I think I could get to like you, kid. I'll send you my bill when I'm done," Malos warned with a chuckle.

"My thanks." Emperor Niall's brow furled in a thoughtful frown. "The Special Inquisitor informs me she assigned a promising Driver to be your escort. Was he injured in yesterday's incident?"

The Grand Marshal cleared his throat. "He was not, Your Majesty. I was unaware his involvement was more than serendipitous."

"I see." The Emperor paused. "It is my hope his involvement remain seen as such at large. However, given the events occurring, I would ask –"

"Yes, Jac can stand in as your resident spy on Torna," Malos sighed, rolling his eyes. "Don't ask him to spy on anything else."

"He sucks at it," Patroka stated bluntly.

"Would you object to his assistance in analyzing the Core Crystals?" the Emperor inquired.

Malos took a second to consider. "No," he decided. "Jac already knows how to keep out of my way. Which is more than I can say for everyone else we've run in to."

"Very well. Grand Marshall. It is my wish you see to assigning Driver Jac formally to the investigation of the sabotaged Core Crystals."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Emperor Niall nodded. "If there are no further issues to hand, I wish to speak in confidence with the Grand Marshal."

Or in other words, Torna was being asked to scram.

"Eh. We've got a meeting with Poppi anyway," Malos shrugged, heading for the door.

They did? Huh. Wonder what about.

Jin stayed long enough to give a formal goodbye on their behalf – which Millie added to by waiving – then headed out the door with the rest of them.

"That was interesting," Akhos summed up. "Tora's house next I presume?"

"Yeah. Got some books we all need to look at," Malos confirmed.

...that wasn't an ominous statement, now was it?

* * *

 

Closing his eyes and exhaling his exhaustion, Niall allowed himself to relax for the moment. The throne room still empty of guards was a familiar place made foreign. Were it not for the presence of his sister, Brighid, Aegaeon, and Aegis Mythra, Niall would have thought this a dream. Even so – having a cordial discussion with the Aegis of Destruction had been surreal.

Aegis Mythra nudged his shoulder as though he were a dear comrade. "Told you Malos had mellowed."

"His sense of humor was most unexpected," concurred Mòrag. She sighed, setting aside the meeting with an adjustment of her gloves. "You intend to awaken all three, then?"

"It seems the wisest course. The three seem complimentary based upon reports," Niall concurred.

"I can still stay by your side, Your Majesty," Aegean attempted to be reassuring.

"I cannot steal you from your current Driver, Aegaeon," Niall countered gently once again. "These incidents of late have proven it: My Special Inquisitor has greater need of your shield." Niall's expression softened. "You were not injured more so than you allow yourself to show, Special Inquisitor?"

Mòrag absently touched where her uniform hid the bandaged gash along her ribs and side. "No, Your Majesty."

"Very well." Niall stood. "Let us dispense with the formalities." To Mythra he asked, "You have their Cores?"

"Right there," Mythra confirmed, pointing to two boxes set upon the main table. One box was small, and contained within a single Core Crystal which would leave immediately for Torigoth. The second box contained three Core Crystals.

"Have you a preference for whom to awaken first, Your Majesty?" At the looks sent her way, Brighid hummed, "It is idle curiosity on my part."

"A shame all three cannot be awakened at once," Niall mused. Walking to the box, he selected one Core Crystal at random. Breathing deep, he reached –

Wind blew through his hair with all the harshness of a deep desert sandstorm. It cut across his lungs as though to take his measure. A peculiar sword formed in his right hand; more an edged stick then a proper weapon, its grip set to one side.

A voice crackled, "You're damn short."

Niall felt no fear of the beastly humanoid. "You are as unorthodox as your weapon."

"Heh." Features like that of a lizard twitched in what felt like a smirk. "You got guts. I _like_ that in a Driver. Name's Sever. Don't expect me to cut you any slack."

"I am Niall. Better known as the Emperor of Mor Ardain. I ask no quarter from you and shall give none in return," Niall affirmed. It was quite different from when Aegaeon had awoken; yet, it felt just as right.

What passed for Sever's eyebrows bounced up. "Emperor, huh? Assassins?"

"Quite a few," Niall confirmed.

"Can I kill 'em?"

"I'd rather they be kept alive for interrogation."

"Meh. Fair enough. Hard to ask a puppet who pulls his strings when those strings have been cut." Sever took in Niall's royal vestments. "I'm gonna stand out like a sore thumb during royal whatsits."

"There are two other Blades I intend to awaken presently. One of them, or Aegaeon, will be visible. You are better suited to being a dagger in the dark, so far as I understand it." Niall paused. "I trust that is acceptable."

Sever hissed happily. "Guts _and_ brains. I'm gonna like you just fine." Rubbing his hands with anticipation, Sever demanded, "Bring on the other two. Let's see if they pass muster."

Niall handed Sever his odd weapon; the lizard-man took it and stepped back, granting Niall room enough to awaken the next Blade. Picking once more at random, Niall plucked a Core Crystal from the case. Once more Niall reached to awaken the heart within.

Fire flared with the same ferocity as the wind had earlier. Not one but five weapons formed. Niall snatched the chrome katana from habit and instinct. The other four weapons – the canon, the ax, the spear, and hammer – melted in the heat, loosing their sheen. Four arms grabbed each remaining weapon in a flourish of flame and artistry. Tall and willowy like a sky pillar of flame cast in white, the Blade took form.

"I am Perdido." Casting the weapons back into base ether, the Blade squinted at Niall. No... one eye was permanently closed. So, not a squint. "The chrome katana. Interesting choice."

"Greetings, Perdido. I am Niall." Niall added a formal salute with the katana. "I have need of a sharp weapon at my side. Will you serve?"

Perdido chuckled, crossing his primary two arms over his chest. "A boy asking a weapon if he will be as he is. All the more interesting. I will serve."

"Then you shall be my sword against my foes as Sever shall be my dagger in the dark."

Niall handed Perdido back the katana. Perdido accepted it while eyeing Sever with due caution. Sever chuckled as if at a private joke.

Niall called their attention back to himself: "I shall awaken one more Blade, this one to act as shield. Have either of you objections?"

"None if that be your will," Perdido answered promptly.

"Mmm. Got a question. For after you wake 'em," Sever clarified. "What happens next might just give me an answer without bothering to ask."

"Very well," Niall allowed. He took the last Core Crystal from the box.

The final Core Crystal seemed to weigh more than Sever's or Perdido's. It's weight seemed to intensify as Niall resonated with it. The weight of Mor Ardain settled on Niall's arms – and then was lifted.

A boisterous voice as rich as farm soil boomed, "Sorry about that! You're a bit too little to use my weapons, ain't cha?"

"I fear so," Niall managed. The mountain of a Blade before him was intimidating: A wall of muscles taller than the Special Inquisitor, with a mane of bright red hair, and prominent tusks along the side of his jaw. For all he looked fearsome, there was a gentleness in hidden blue eyes. Gathering himself, Niall offered his hand. "My name is Niall. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The mountain bounced. "Nice to meet you, Niall! My name's –"

"Cressidus," hissed Sever.

The muscular Blade _pouted_ , Mor Ardain keep them well. He protested, "Aw, Sever, that's not nice! I wanted to introduce myself proper to my new Driv– hey!"

Sever hissed a snicker. But it was Perdido who crossed his arms and hummed, "You remember, too, I take it?"

"I do! That's weird." Cressidus scratched at his head. "Don't remember everything. I remember all the good parts, though!" He seemed crestfallen as he realized, "I guess this means Mikhail is dead."

"He is not," Niall swiftly assured them. This was outside anything Niall could have imagined – but he was the Emperor. These were his people now, and they needed his decisive action. Niall faced the three Blades. "None of your old Drivers are dead at present. There were significant complications when they ascended the World Tree. But, they all are quite well with their current Driver."

"Mik' has a Driver?" Cressidus perked.

"A young lass aged two years. She is also the Driver for Aegis Malos, and Blades Patroka, Akhos, and Jin."

Perdido's expression mirrored Sever's. Sever snorted, "Malos is _babysitting?_ "

"It's as hilarious as you think," Mythra spoke up. The Aegis of Light put her hands upon her hips. "So you all remember your past life, huh? That's unexpected. Wonder if it's because Pyra and I had to repair your Core Crystals? Not like it really matters, I guess."

"I can arrange for you to be transported to them," Niall offered.

"And leave you unguarded?" Perdido waved the thought away. "Though the idea holds merit, that life is past. Patroka has no need of my weapons. You, my Driver, _do_. And so I shall stay."

"Likewise. Babysitting. Ha!" Sever's snickers dissolved into hissing giggles.

"I can get photos," Mythra sing-songed.

"Could yah? I'd like to see Mikhail and his Driver. But Perdido and Sever are right. Mik' doesn't need me any more. You do, Niall." Cressidus gently poked Niall's shoulder with a beefy finger. "You're nothing but skin and bones! Do you get a chance to exercise at all?"

"There are drills," Niall began.

And then ducked when a blast of wind past his ear.

"Good reflexes. Sucky duck," Sever judged, lowering his weapon. "Where's the sparring area? Need to figure out exactly what we're working with."

"And swiftly. Doubtless as Emperor, your time for pursuits outside the legislative is limited," Perdido noted.

Before Niall could get a word in edgewise, Cressidus lifted him up to sit upon Creasidus's shoulder. "Let's get going!"

The last thing Niall heard as his three new Blades tromped off with Niall in tow was his sister's Blade humming, "This seems to have gone better than anticipated."

Architect help him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...yes. Yes, I did take liberties with the fact Perdido has multiple weapons. I know there's a heart-to-heart which insinuates the ether cannon is "his" weapon. Rule of Cool is in effect.
> 
> I'm afraid that's all for now, folks. This is the last chapter I have written and edited -- though might I emphasize for now. The bunnies have been nibbling all the lovely carrots the comments have been handing out, and are muttering something about maybe five more chapters and a prologue. We'll see what gobbles 'round in November. ^.^
> 
> (Also: What. The hell. Over 80,000 words? No wonder my bunnies went on vacation around this chapter! Sheesh... I think this is the longest thing I've ever written and posted.)


	17. Stuffing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look. A wild filler chapter appeared.

Malos eyed the warehouse's contents, and did his best to bite down on an annoyed sigh. Transport bottled Core Crystals were stacked six rows high. Each row ran the full width of the warehouse; easily two or three Titan pedes in length. There were five – six? – of the double sided shelving units in addition to the two single sided unites, one on each wall, set up so as to take maximum effectiveness of the available space. So far as logistics went, Malos supposed it was... efficient. Also kind of impressive how swiftly they had been amassed.  Made sense the Grand Marshal would call in every Core Crystal he could get his grubby hands on throughout the immediate region. Knock ‘em all out in a single go.

It left Malos wondering (again) why the hell he'd agreed to this.

"Row by row?" Jac tentatively suggested.

"I'll fight you later! You know, as a reward for a job well done!" Zenobia offered. Yachink put his hand to his head to stave off a groan.

"I don't think that will help," Jac noted, laughing awkwardly at Zenobia's disappointed pout.

Jin gave Malos's shoulder a squeeze. "Think of Millie," he counseled.

Right. His brat was putting up with Akhos and Patroka shopping. Given both had promised Jin they would behave and not kill anyone, Millie should have been sufficient supervision. _Should_ have.

...yeah, no. Malos would rather put up with the siblings' shopping shenanigans than this tedium.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Malos stalked towards the farthest row of Core Crystals. The sooner he got this shit done, the better.

_Accessing Core Crystal database. Initiating group scan._

Type-less ether swept ahead of Malos. It danced across the rows and columns of sleeping Cores. It "tasted" each Core en mass. Once each Core was touched, the type-less ether returned to Malos, bringing with it enough information to make the world swim out of focus. Closing his eyes against the wave, Malos breathed through it. His Core Crystal glowed bright enough to be noticeable as instinct (of a sorts) processed the information.

According to Mythra and Pyra, Father had said Aegises were stupidly advanced data processing units. Malos might not _get_ that – but, as things stilled, Malos figured he had a better idea now then he had a second ago.

 _One thing to_ know _you can do this kinda crap. Another thing to_ do _it_.

Did he ever wish he could punch Amalthus in the nuts right now.

"Grab a cart," Malos ordered.

Jac and Yachink grabbed a cart modified to safely carry Core Crystals.

Stalking down the row, Malos began grabbing tagged Core Crystals. The cart could handle about fifty Cores without being over-weighted.

Malos grabbed twenty. Out of a wall holding two hundred.

"These are the tainted ones?" Jac guessed.

"Those are the ones with either zero or minimal _taint_ , if you want to call it that," Malos corrected.

Jac eyed the remaining Core Crystals. Looking at the cart's contents, he proffered a silent whistle. "This is, what. Ten percent?"

"Ten percent out of this wall." Giving the rest of the warehouse an annoyed glance, Malos sighed, "It's too early to make assumptions on everything else."

Taking a deep breath, Malos turned to face the next batch of Core Crystals. He was not getting paid enough for this crap... At least it swiftly fell into a rhythm. Boring as watching paint dry, but bearable. Barely.

* * *

 

 

Patroka sighed. Merchants trying to pinch every last penny appeared to be a universal constant irregardless of the century. Which, okay, sure, _fine._ Merchants had to make a living, too. But when they were working off a budget – not something Patroka was used to, seeing how Torna had amassed enough capital over five hundred years to double as their own country – having to haggle for everything get real damn annoying really, _really_ quickly.

 _Things were so much simpler when I could just kill everything_ , Patroka privately hummed.

From her arms, Patroka’s Driver wiggled for attention.

Feeling the near omnipresent constant anger slide off her like a prickly shroud, Patroka turned her attention to Millie. It was one thing to know intellectually how much a Driver affected her, another to _feel_ it again after so many years without.

 _Or was it?_ Patroka wondered, and not for the first time. In the dark and cold of the worst days, Patroka had wondered if maybe, somehow, she and Akhos had picked up a Driver in –. Aloud, Patroka demanded, “Yeah?”

Millie pointed to various bits and bobs of jewelry on display.

“Arts and crafts stuff,” Patroka hedged.

Millie wrinkled her nose. Patroka could practically _feel_ her curiosity about the glittering things and annoyance at Patroka’s deliberate denseness.

Rolling her eyes, Patroka took the lazy ass way (as she always did). “Hey.”

“Y-Yes?” jumped the girl at the stall’s counter.

“I’m not going to buy anything,” Patroka got out first and foremost, “but my Driver’s a brat. She won’t stop bugging me until she finds out about this junk you’ve got. So,” Patroka gestured for the girl to start talking.

“O-Oh! W-Well.” The girl’s eyes flicked to Patroka, prey recognizing a bored predator. Swallowing, the girl tried to focus her attention on Millie. “W-Was there anything in specific…?”

Millie pointed to an arrangement of bracelets.

“These are friendship bracelets,” the girl began.

Patroka let her words fade into background noise. Being out in the open on a street like this _itched_ at her. Sure, Malos and Jin were both going around not giving a damn if they got recognized, and maybe they were right. Maybe Patroka didn’t need to worry about the average human recognizing Torna. Mercenaries, though…

_I followed what was needed for the mission. We needed Core Crystals to power the ship. Easiest way was to take them from Drivers. Not like there ever were Drivers who were worthy of having –_

Millie pulled on her outfit.

 _Right, right, stop angsting,_ Patroka got the message. Giving the toddler a fraction of her attention, Patroka shifted her thoughts elsewhere. _Wonder how many Core Crystal hunting groups are still active? Probably a shit ton,_ Patroka answered her own question. Core Crystal hunting had been a thing as long as there had been Drivers.

Millie tugged on her outfit again. Rolling her eyes, Patroka demanded, “What now?”

Millie pointed at the bracelets again. Her hands came up together in a circle, and then she knotted her fingers together. Patroka raised an eyebrow at her. Frowning fiercely, Millie tried to get her fingers into a set pattern. A _familiar_ pattern from those damn books Malos had banged off their collective skulls yesterday.

 _How_.

Patroka rolled her eyes, getting the message. To the counter girl, Patroka stated, “Brat wants to know how the bracelets got made.”

“Bracelets in general or our specialty friendship bracelets?” asked the counter girl, picking up a set of linked bracelets with matching white, red, and blue semi-precious gemstones.

Suspicion rising, Patroka eyed Millie as she said, “I think the brat was more interested in how to make flower bracelets.”

Millie pointed at the friendship bracelets.

“I see,” said the girl behind the counter. There had better not have been laughter at Patroka’s expense.

“You wouldn’t know a good book if it came up and bit you in the –!” Akhos’s voice rose into a bellow.

Rolling her eyes, Patroka ordered the counter girl to, “Hold that thought.”

_Siblings. Can’t live with them. Can’t kill them._

From her arms, Millie giggled.

* * *

 

Seated in a corner of the Torigoth base, well out of the way of supplies, soldiers, and other sundry things, Mikhail tried to empty his head. The sounds of the base tending to its myriad of little things was soothing in its own way. It had a rhythm to it.

 _Not the rhythm I'm after_ , Mikhail reminded himself. Deep breath in through his mouth, out through his nose, and just – let it all drift. Listen for the ether.

Mikhail wrinkled his nose. There was a loose prickly itchiness starting up around his Core Crystal. It didn't hurt, and wasn't annoying, it was just... It was like someone poking him in the shoulder to get his attention.

_If someone were trying to get my attention, why would I feel it in my --_

Mikhail blinked; rubbing the bridge of his nose, Mikhail realized, _Holy shit. It's Millie._

Mikhail's Driver was trying to get his attention. Mikhail's Driver was reaching for him across their ether link. For a minute, Mikhail was torn between awe (his Driver was reaching for him!) and fear as the reality _he had a Driver_ impacted. Sure, Mikhail knew he had a Driver. It just... He hadn't _known_ , bone deep, he had a Driver.

_This explains so much._

About Jin, and how much loosing Lora had gutted him. About Akhos, and how much of an ass he was to keep the world at arm's length. About Patroka, who bristled with sharp pointy objects in an effort to keep everyone _out,_ to kill anything that might get close _,_ to avoid caring about anyone ever again.

“What has gotten into you?” Patroka’s voice drifted around the warehouses. Millie’s voice rose in the starts of a temper tantrum whine. “No, I am not going to put you back down. Last time you ran around here on your own, you nearly got run over.”

A fussy complaint that might have been a, _nu-uh!_ , sounded in time with the tug in Mikhail’s Core Crystal getting stronger.

Getting to his feet, Mikhail rounded the corner in time to quip, “Sorry, brat. You absolutely did.”

Millie’s pout at Mikhail seemed to call him a traitor. A knot of tension (caused by all that tugging?) loosened in Mikhail’s chest. It was a good thing they already had plans to teach her how to beat bastards into paste. By time she hit sixteen, Millie was going to be breaking hearts left, right, and center. She was too damn cute.

“Mik’el!” Millie fussed, twisting in Patroka’s arms to reach for Mikhail.

Patroka eyed Millie with a raised eyebrow; a clear and demanding, _Really?_

“Mik’el!” Millie repeated, fussing even more.

“Who am I to deny a request like that?” Mikhail joked.

Rolling her eyes, Patroka handed Millie over to Mikhail. Giving Patroka a stink eye, Millie turned and plopped her face against Mikhail’s shoulder. The toddler burbled an attempt at words which came through gargled as usual. From the way his Core Crystal tickled, she was probably trying to tell him something. And did _that_ do a weird flip-flop to his insides.

 _I have a Driver_ **and** _she likes me_.

Not a sentence Mikhail had ever expected to think. The reality of it seemed to turn things sideways, a little. Not in a bad way. Just… different. Unexpected.

About as unexpected as a teeth rattling _slam_ followed by a growl.

“Aw come on! A fight will totally make you feel better!” Zenobia’s voice crowed.

Mikhail looked over at Patroka. “Malos?” he guessed.

“Screw you,” Malos’s voice growled next.

Patroka rolled her eyes. Millie sat up in Mikhail’s arms, turning towards Malos’s voice. Thus cued, Malos stalked around the warehouses, a grumpy Millie-seeking missile.

“Mik’. Patroka. Brat,” Malos greeted gruffly.

“Calling it done for the day, Malos?” Mikhail inquired.

“Yeah,” Malos groused, “done enough.” The Aegis half reached for his Driver.

Millie fussed, “Mik’el!” and held tight to Mikhail.

 _Erk_ , Mikhail’s stunned brain managed. This was – huh?

Instead of looking pissed (well, _more_ pissed), Malos looked intrigued. “Try and use your words, brat. I know you know a few.”

Millie turned a bit in Mikhail’s hold so as to face Malos. Puckering with concentration, she held out both hands. “Mik – el,” Millie said slowly, spelling out a Salvager Code for a – false scanner ping? Giving a, “ _pfff_ ,” of frustration Millie tried again. She moved her fingers achingly slowly to signal _practice_.

Practice?

“That’s right,” Malos crossed his arms over his chest, looking like an amused mountain contemplating an avalanche, “Mikhail hasn’t done his ether channeling practice yet. Now has he.”

Mikhail blinked. He managed an, “Um…?” Patroka was giving him a stink-eye to go with Malos’s amused stare and Millie’s determined glare. “After nap time?” Mikhail suggested.

“Mik’el!” Millie fussed. There was another tug within Mikhail’s Core, like a frustrated smack to the back of Mikhail’s head.

“Brat’s got a point, Mik’. Ether practice is important,” Malos reminded Mikhail. Why he was so amused, Mikhail could only guess. But the flick of his eyes saying, _go on_ , was impossible to miss.

“But,” Mikhail began.

“You said you’d do it this morning,” Malos reminded him. Which, yes, Mikhail _had_ asked Millie yesterday if she were free this morning. Before Mikhail could work through his head why this was a thing now, Malos pointed out, “We’re about out of morning.”

“I get it.” Patroka crossed her arms, eyeing Mikhail with amusement. “Millie isn’t an idiot, unlike Mikhail. She promised to give you a hand this morning. So, she’s going to give you a hand – this morning.”

 _Aren’t you being a bit too literal?_ Mikhail wanted to ask. His own question was immediately answered by, _Since when do toddlers use logic? Somewhere in here is a punchline, and I got a feeling I’m it._

Yielding in the face of a fussy brat, Mikhail closed his eyes and breathed in. Trying to find the rhythm of the ether around him was going to be a – ...pain?

“Oh,” Mikhail murmured. The ether between himself and Millie flickered into visibility a hell of a lot faster this time. Giving Mikhail a happy pat, Millie laid her head down on Mikhail’s shoulder. Her eyes slid closed. The ether dimmed beneath the incoming rush of toddler dreams. Breathing slowly, Mikhail murmured, “ _Oh_.”

 _She wants to take care of me. She wants to help me. Just like…_ Mikhail licked his lips. _Just like I want to take care of her._ _Aside from Lora and Jin, no one’s ever wanted to take care of me before._ **I’ve** _never wanted to take care of someone before. I… really do not know how to feel right now…_

“Breathe,” Malos ordered.

Swallowing shock as best he could, Mikhail breathed. At length Mikhail managed to blurt, “Did her wanting to take care of you freak you out too?”

“Fuck yes,” Malos admitted without hesitation.

Patroka eyed both males warily. Before Mikhail could figure out what to say, Patroka shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Neither of you had Drivers who gave a shit before. Fine. _Whatever_. Melodramatic airheads.”

“Careful, Patroka, or you’ll choke on that sanctimonious attitude,” Malos snarked.

“Why you--!” Patroka snarled.

“ _Fight fight fight!_ ” came a windy cheer.

Mikhail adjusted his hold on his sacked out Driver. Unable to resist, Mikhail joked, “You two kids go have fun playing with uncle Jac’s Blade.”

Malos’s and Patroka’s expressions were hilarious. Promising certain death to Mikhail as soon as he put Millie down, yes. Still. Utterly _hilarious_.

* * *

 

_Dear Iona,_

_You won’t know me, but I know you. More specifically, I know_ of _you. You were the child kidnapped by two members of Torna in their effort to capture the Aegis. You were used as a pawn in their effort to destroy the world. Doubtless you feel rather more like an accomplice than a pawn given how their machinations lead to the death of Garfont Mercenary Vandham. I understand he was a good and dear friend of yours._

_Painful as it is to say so now, I intimately knew one of the men involved. The one who said his Blade could save your grandfather. His name was Akhos. He is dead._

_I will not fill this page with a diatribe on how his actions should be excused. Indeed, they should not be. The actions Akhos took were cruel, and needless, and in the end they were as grotesque as the monster Akhos had set himself against. Were I to meet my dear friend now, I would not recognize him._

_Instead I will tell you about Akhos’s Blade._

_Obrona is something of an impertinent sort. She has no wish to be tied down to any one place or thing. Though, when last I spoke with her, she was resigned to being bound as her fate as a Blade, she was also quite sad. Akhos had turned into nothing more than another taskmaster. I rather think she was starting to hate him._

_Obrona has no cruel bone within her body. She wants nothing more than to fly free within the limits set by the jess that is the bond between Driver and Blade. Obrona needs a Driver who is smart, quick witted, who lives with the freedom to push boundaries which comes hand-in-hand with the stage, and who is terrifyingly brave._

_I believe she needs you, Iona._

_And so, I entrust Obrona’s Core Crystal to you. Her fate is in your hands._

_Yours from distant shores,_

_A Friend_

There was nothing more to add. Folding the letter tight, Akhos sealed it, and then handed it to Roc. There was some sort of irony here, somewhere: That Akhos should entrust his Blade to the Blade of the man he had killed.

“You sure about this?” Roc asked. The avian opened the secure container holding Obrona’s Core Crystal and slipped the letter inside.

“I am,” Akhos affirmed.

Roc had the kindness not to point out Akhos’s voice cracked or that his hands were shaking.

“I’ll see it safely to her. Any message for Cole or the others?” Roc inquired.

“ _I’m sorry_ is significantly inaccurate.” Akhos took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “ _Sorry_ does not count when there is no remorse for the actions taken. We did what we thought was right. That it made people suffer was a… bonus.”

Roc clicked his beak. “And now that you’ve got a little one of your own, you can see just how stupid you were. Hindsight being twenty/twenty and all that.”

“Being a hypocrite is nothing new to me,” Akhos mused.

“Mercs are like that, too, in a way. We say we fight for justice. Really, we’re all the same. We’ve got principles we would die for, true enough, but dead for principle is just the same as dead,” Roc philosophized. Fluffing his feathers, Roc shook himself from his funk. “Take care of yourself, Akhos. Take care of your Driver.”

Nodding, Akhos gave Roc a final goodbye. He watched as Roc walked out into the afternoon, and vanished into the late day crowds.

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m allowed,” Akhos quipped, though his heart wasn’t in it.

Patroka moved to stand next to him. Gently – well. Gentler than was her usual wont – Patroka elbowed Akhos in the ribs. Coming from his sister dear, it may as well have been a hug.

“Jac asked for some help knocking Zenobia down a few pegs,” Patroka reported.

“Oh? You’ll oblige him, I take it?” Akhos inquired, finally turning his eyes away from where Roc had vanished.

“I’m _bored_ ,” Patroka confirmed. “Not to mention Malos is still pissed.”

“When is he not?” Akhos countered.

“Pissed about the Core Crystals,” Patroka clarified. Because that was a sentence that needed clarification: Malos. Being pissed about something that usually fell within the sphere of goodie-goodies and _heroes_. It was absolutely going on the list.

“So. You and Malos versus Zenobia, Jac, and Yachink. Somehow, that doesn’t seem fair,” Akhos mused.

“Nah. Just me versus Zenobia and Jac. Malos is gonna referee; he’s having brat withdrawals.”

If anyone dared to say Akhos laughed at the mental image, Akhos would deny it to his dying breath. Quickly moving the topic along, Akhos inquired, “Jin and Mikhail?”

“Also going to be sparing. Jin keeps saying he owes Mik’ a fight.” Patroka’s shrug subbed for her usual verbal tick of, _whatever_. Her eyes flicking to him asked the question for her.

“I suppose we may as well making an outing of it,” Akhos capitulated. After all, they’d need a healer on hand to patch up various and sundry idiots.

“Then come on. We’re supposed to meet Jac in an hour.”

Nudging his glasses back into place, Akhos followed where Patroka led.


	18. A Dash of Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zenobia gets her wish: Fight!
> 
> The Blades of Torna also learn a bit more about Millie’s short history. ...they kind of wish they hadn’t. Angst warning in effect!

Sitting on a camp blanket was kinda comfortable. Kinda. Watching Patroka pop Zenobia's over-inflated ego was good entertainment, even if he did wince at the pounding Jac was taking. The kid needed seasoning if he was going to survive being a soldier. Just... Malos had never thought he'd have sympathy for somebody like Jac. For anybody, really.

 _At least Mik's getting better_ , Malos mused, looking over at the other spar in progress. So far Mikhail had held Jin to a draw. Sure, Jin was taking it easy on the kid, but he wasn't holding back quite as much as he could have been.

Millie shifted in Malos's lap so as to better reach one of her dozen small piles of flowers. Working on making bracelets for them if Malos had to take a guess. So far she had yet to finish even one – which was fine, Malos supposed. His brat seemed to have a pattern in mind.

"We should probably wrap this up before too long," Malos mused.

Millie blinked at him. Malos felt a faint tug within his Core Crystal.

"You need to practice your words, brat," Malos half reminded, half ordered, giving Millie's nose a boop.

Wrinkling her nose, Millie pouted. Sure, she had to practice words so everybody _else_ could understand. But Malos was her Big; he didn't _need_ her to practice her words to understand. – and the very fact Malos got all that out of a nose twitch and a pout proved her point.

Rolling his eyes, Malos countered, "Practicing words is your version of ether practice." _It's important_ , he tried to insist.

Heaving a sigh three times her size, his brat capitulated. Her little fingers worked themselves slowly into a question: _Do – we – have – to?_

"Yeah, we do. It's getting dark enough for the average brat to not see clearly. Plus, bedtime's coming up."

Millie flicked out, _Not._

"You're my Driver; of course you're not average," Malos concurred, dodging the whole not bedtime thing. "Jac _is_ _average_. Or do you want to explain to Morca and the others how Jac broke bones from night fighting?"

His brat wrestled with the concept. On the one hand, she wanted to stay and play some more. On the other, she didn't want Jac to get hurt. Jac wasn't Torna but he _was_ nice and his siblings were friends. On the other, other hand, Akhos could fix Jac's bones if they broke, so really it should be fine to play for a _little_ longer. Right?

Malos gave his brat a look. Millie returned it was an innocent giggle that wasn't fooling anyone.

"Pack it up, brat," Malos ordered.

Pouting, Millie began to pack up her flowery art supplies.

Zenobia called from her spot above, "Hey! What's with the funky lights?"

"Lights?" Akhos inquired.

"Yeah! Over there," Zenobia pointed.

Standing up with his brat in his arms, Malos looked the direction Zenobia was pointing. _Funky_ was an accurate enough summation. It looked like about six dozen blue lights were flickering down on the plains. At this distance and elevation, the way the lights flickered gave an illusion of candles with blue flames. Maybe it was clearer to call them dog-sized blue fireflies.

"Creepy," Patroka judged.

"Weird," Mikhail concurred.

"Jac?" Jin inquired of the local.

Jac rubbed behind his ears. "Not something normal 'round here." The Gormotti squinted as if that would improve his vision. "Might be those ghostfire lights I've heard tell of. Da was telling me the other day about oddities startin' up 'round the outskirts where Gormott meets the new continent. Flickers of fires that ain't natural. Folks started calling 'em ghostlights after the story of Morytha started makin' the rounds all over. Don't recall hearin' them getting closer inland."

Malos glared at the lights. Something about them –

Millie screamed.

No. Worse. His brat strangled the scream before it could rise beyond the start of a cry. Eyes scrunched tight, Millie curled herself into as tiny a ball as possible and tried to hide in Malos's arms. She was shaking from trying to hold herself perfectly still. She was barely even breathing.

"Brat?" Malos tried to ask. "Brat, hey, what...?"

Eyes so filled with terror they could see nothing turned on Malos in a _command_.

_don't say a word_ _–_ _don't make a sound_ _– h_ _ide hide hide from the flickers the flickers hide hide_ _hide!_

Malos grabbed the fear by its throat and throttled it. _You are my brat. **N** **othing** is going to touch you_ , Malos growled.

 _That's what mommy said_.

"Brat. Stop thinking about it. Now," Malos commanded.

 _fire hurting_ screaming _not a sound not a sound run run run fire everything on fi--_

Mikhail's hand covered Millie's eyes and turned her head to better press against Malos's shoulder. And he was... channeling an Art...? Nothing fancy. Just a wrap of darkness ether to make their immediate area almost pitch black for anybody who wasn't darkness element. His mouth was also running, a meaningless dribble about how it was just Millie, and Malos, and things were quiet, dark, she could breathe, just breathe –

His brat shuddered and breathed and slowly, achingly slowly, she started to calm down.

After a long minute, Patroka shattered the silence: "We need to go kill things."

"Namely the bastards who took out Millie's village while Millie was still in it," Mikhail agreed, expression colder and fiercer than Malos could recall having ever seen.

 _...wait a second_.

"You've –" Malos started to ask.

It was Mikhail who answered: "Reaction like that? Fuck yes, she has met whatever those are," Mikhail gestured towards the lights, "up close and in person."

Oh _damn_. "She's from Mor Ardain," Malos attempted to protest.

"Whatever. So they have a ship or something. We kill them, figure out how they got here, and then kill all their friends," Patroka pointed out logically.

"Malos."

Fighting down a shudder that wasn't his, Malos looked at Jin.

"Take Millie. Escort Jac back to Torigoth Base. The Grand Marshall needs to be notified."

Right. Malos could – Malos could do that. And then come back with whatever forces Jac could get mobilized while Jac babysat his brat. That was a plan. A good, solid plan.

"On it," Malos acknowledged.

Brat held tight, Malos herded an unprotesting Jac and Zenobia back to Torigoth.

* * *

 

Akhos had stated Malos and he were keeping a list of odd things which had happened to them. Jin was going to personally add, _Watching Malos have a panic attack_ , to that list at the first opportunity available.

Nothing could be done about it now. Will firming, Jin eyed the still moving ghostfires. In the ten minutes since Zenobia had spotted them, the ghostfires had made progress across the plains. Rough guess, Jin pegged their speed at a little under ten Titan pedes an hour. Inside three hours the ghostflames would be on Torigoth. Pincer ran the risk of their breaking for Torigoth. There was also too little information to justify the risk of splitting up.

Turning them towards the Cloud Sea appeared the best option. Which would mean an attack from – there.

Gathering Torna (minus one) with a look, Jin secured his weapon, and started running.

 _Mikhail is furious,_ was a given. This struck too close to old heart-wounds which had scabbed over yet never healed. That in turn woke other memories sweetened by five hundred years of bitterness, and left Mikhail fractionally off-kilter. Jin would have to watch him. Akhos, likewise, was already keeping a close eye on Patroka. What had happened to their Driver hit a sore nerve with a sledgehammer.

They were close enough to –

Jin jerked to a halt. Mikhail, Akhos, and Patroka ringed him immediately. They were all husbanding their breath, but none of them sounded exhausted. Which was good, considering they would need all their strength.

"What," Akhos demanded, shoving his glasses back into place, "are _those_?"

"The last remnants of the survivors of Morytha," Jin answered.

Patroka leaned forward to get a better look at the shambling humanoids. "They're human?"

"They were. Anything human left in them was drowned by the Cloud Sea at Alrest's founding." Shoving aside the fear-born question of how the _hell_ there were two dozen of them on Gormott, Jin steadied his breathing. "They have psudo Core Crystals and a healing factor on par with a Blades'. They can absorb charged ether and change their element accordingly. Shatter what passes for their Core and they die."

"Do they have rudimentary intelligence?" Akhos inquired.

Jin gave the question thought. "Smarter than a brog. Dumber than a volff."

"Just intelligent enough to be a hassle," Akhos hummed. "You're thinking aim them for the Cloud Sea?"

"I was," Jin confirmed. He narrowed his eyes at the horde. "Eliminate them all."

"With pleasure!" Patroka crowed.

The horde turned towards the sound of her shout. Almost in unison, they began to shamble towards Torna.

Their center blasting ice ahead of them, Torna counterattacked.

* * *

 

"Malos! _Malos_!!"

Half distracted by – shit. _Everything_ – Malos nearly missed the ball of feathered fluff rushing for him. Like all Nopon in Alrest, Tora knew how to get all eyes on him swiftly. Truthfully that was probably a good thing in this case because _fucking hell_ did not adequately describe the current situation. Even with Poppi right next to him, Malos had nearly used Tora for a football.

"Malos! Malos! Big problem!" Tora hopped up and down so as to try and get in Malos's face in emphasis. "Big _big_ _big_ problem!"

"You talkin' about the ghostfires, Tora?" Jac asked.

"Ghostfires not fires!" Tora announced. To his credit, Tora kept it to a hiss instead of a yell.

"Ghostfires are guldos!" Poppi reported, arm's flailing in mimicry of Tora's wings.

Malos felt himself pale. Guldos? "Here?"

...shit. Had Malos's voice just squeaked?

"They guldos! Poppi is positive!"

"Guldos?" Jac demanded.

"Nasty," Malos summed up, absently running his fingers down his brat's back. She was still wound up tight with fear. This was not going to make things better. Steeling himself for his brat's reaction, Malos ran through the highlights: "They can heal as fast as a Blade, hit just as hard as me, and have a Core Crystal."

"A Core Crystal?" Zenobia gasped.

"Not Core Crystal!" Poppi corrected.

"Guldo Crystal like Core Crystal same way Tirkin like Nopon," Tora explained with bouncy emphasis. "Not real thing, but not not real thing. Meh-meh... Mythra and Klaus much better at explaining."

"Must break not-Core to terminate guldo," Poppi noted. "Jin know. He gone to Morytha before. But rest of friends _not_ know! Worse, too!"

"Worse?" Malos echoed.

"There more coming!" Tora reported.

"Many more! Coming along Cloud Sea side! Not visible from where friends had picnic! If not up on windmill, Poppi not see them!" Poppi clarified.

 _Jin...!_ Holding his Driver tight, Malos dared to look towards the ghostfires.

As if summoned by Malos's fears, ice surged upwards in a visible force.

" _Big_."

Swallowing, Malos looked at Millie. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she did not sob. Her hands shook violently as she tried to force her fingers into a word: _G – o –_

_I want to have applesauce with you and see a play with Ack and color in those fun books with Pack and help Mik'el make stuff and hug Jin. Go._

The shake in Malos's limbs had everything to do with fear. Fear for Torna. Fear for his brat. Distantly, like a flicker of candlelight on a stormy night, there was fear for Jac, his family, and all the strange people in Torigoth like Tora and Poppi. Malos managed to look at Jac.

Jac swore, "I'll guard her like my own blood."

Handing Millie to Jac was the second hardest thing Malos had done in his existence. The first hardest –

Was stepping away.

* * *

 

Moving with a rhythm only Torna could hear, Mikhail danced with death. Darkness wrapped him in an ethereal shroud. It gave his steps a little extra bounce, made his reflexes a shade faster; made his weapons cut deeper, sharper, _stronger_. The things Jin had said were from Morytha were brutish but when they got momentum going, they were whip fast.

But Mikhail found – _he_ was faster.

A nudge of ice against the dark.

Taking his cue, Mikhail did a rolling dive out of the way. Ice spikes impaled the four uglies that had been his dance partners. As Mikhail got to his feet, fans slicing out around him, he saw one of the three had gone dark. The others were slowed enough Mikhail could skip right in and –

Two more went down. The third got it together enough to force Mikhail back before he could end it. And then that third got an electrifying scythe to the shoulder. It went dark before it could contemplating screaming.

 _Akhos needs to work more on his scythe. He's too used to sniping things_ , pointed out the microscopic corner of Mikhail's brain analyzing the fight real-time. A sizable portion was dedicated to the dance. What little wasn't being used up by the above was... well.

Gibbering about summed it up: _So these are the bastards who hurt_ **my** _Driver going to kill them all – Eep! Watch those tentacles! Patroka is so hot when she's fighting –_ _hello, fuck, dodge!_

The ground was painfully hard.

An icy sword cut off the monster's head and its Core in a single smooth slice. Jin arched an eyebrow at Mikhail.

"Whops?" Mikhail weakly offered, taking Jin's hand.

Jin hauled Mikhail to his feet.

"I believe," Akhos paused to shift his scythe into a shield, "they have reinforcements."

"They do," Jin confirmed, slashing through another monster's Core. Or almost through: The thing recoiled in time to avoid more than a glancing blow.

"We're outnumbered six to one," Patroka reported. She had moved so that her back was to Torna. Actually, they had all moved so their backs were to one another.

"Anyone have any plans?" Mikhail inquired, spinning his fans to loosen his wrists. Three to one he could handle. Six was pushing it.

" _Meh-meh-meh-mehmehmeh~!_ "

....bowling for Morytha monster's with Nopon was new. Not something Mikhail had ever contemplated, but hey. It sent the monsters scattering like dropped grape-walnuts so who was Mikhail to complain.

"Was that --"

Darkness drowned out the rest of Patroka's question. A wave of it surged over the monsters. It lifted Mikhail up in an adrenaline high that rivaled the moment Mikhail had realized the Marsanes was going to work.

"-khail. Mikhail?"

Shaking himself out of it was weirdly easy. It was like the darkness was cognoscente of its effect on him and was trying to tone it down.

"Malos," Mikhail realized, a bit breathless. _Malos_ was the source of the darkness. Malos was the one trying to keep Mikhail's head above water, so to speak, while still keeping enough of a surge to let the Aegis really cut loose.

Malos was also the one whose power disintegrated monsters in a straight line to Mikhail and the others.

The remaining monsters got out of his way. Those that were too slow got caught in smaller bubbles of dissolving black. The lucky ones had their Core Crystals chopped into pieces. Following up behind Malos, herding the things back into place for another round of Nopon bowling, was Tora and – whoa. Since when was Poppi rocking a kickass scarf to go with being wracked and stacked? Mikhail thought the artificial Blade was equivalent to _ten_ , not _twenty five._ If Patroka hadn't maimed – _claimed!_ – Mikhail's heart, he might just have been tempted to be serious.

"Mik'," Malos half growled, half greeted.

"I'm okay," Mikhail swore. Malos upgraded his growl to a glare. Mikhail confessed, "Mostly okay. That's a _lot_ more ether than I'm used to. I'll be fine."

"Damn well better be. If any of us get hurt, brat's going to start crying," Malos warned. Unsaid but certainly implied: _I will kick the ass of anyone who makes my brat cry, no exceptions._

Malos really was a lot like Jin, just one hundred percent more growly.

"What we could really use is a rain of ether arrows," Akhos stated, adjusting his glasses.

"Targets are too small and we're too close. Too big a risk of frying us along with them," Malos nixed. Seemingly without much care, Malos parted another monster from its Core.

"Torigoth Tora and Poppi's home! Mean guldos go back to Morytha!"

The chant would be ridiculous if Mikhail hadn't seen Tora slice a monster's Core clean in half. Getting a closer look, Mikhail could have sworn that was a replica of Pyra's sword Tora was swinging around.

"Perhaps Poppi and Jin should concentrate ice ether in one spot? If move guldos to spot, could freeze to absolute zero," the wracked and stacked Poppi suggested.

"Jin?" Malos inquired.

Jin was silent for longer than slicing monsters could account for. Breathing deep, Jin confessed, "I'm unsure I can hit absolute zero in these conditions."

 _He means without Millie,_ Mikhail knew in his Core Crystal.

"Not problem! Need only slow down so friends can do big bang, yes?" Tora pointed out.

"Yeah. More or less," Malos concurred. And one less monster.

"How long do we need to keep them pinned?" Jin asked, pushing back yet another monster.

Mikhail felt eyes on his back; friendly but judging eyes. It didn't take a genius to guess why. "Pour on as much ether as it takes, Malos. I'll be fine!"

"He will be," Patroka swore.

If it weren't for the fact they were both up to their hips in killing and/or avoiding being killed by monsters, Mikhail would have made a sappy quip. Something to the effect of how it was cute Patroka really liked him. Maybe even pushed to set up a date. However, given they _were_ in the middle of not dying now... Yeah, no. For once, flirting could wait a minute.

Jin flicked a look at Akhos.

Pushing up his glasses, Akhos shifted his stance to accommodate his shield being back to a scythe. "Three teams. Jin holds them here. Patroka, Mikhail, break right. Malos, left. Tora, Poppi, and I will move along the left and head for the flank. Corral as many as possible into the kill-box between Poppi and Jin. I'll fire a bolt to signal operation start. Then, Malos, it's all on you."

"Roger roger!" Poppi and Tora both chirped. Patroka added a, "Whatever," to the other assorted grunts, nods, or cheers affirmative.

"Jin?" Akhos questioned.

Centering himself, Jin waited a beat. Literally: Mikhail could _hear_ ice tune itself to the immediate world's song. There was a near imperceptible skip –

" _Now!_ "

Torna (plus two) moved.

* * *

 

After everything was said and done, Malos was going to have to grab Pyra and Mythra and have a long talk in excruciating detail about the whole splitting one’s Core Crystal thing. Because this? This was bordering on ridiculous.

It was also a relief and a fright in equal measure. By that same token, what wasn’t these days?

Malos was not alone. And he wasn’t talking about Torna. Millie was with him. Not physically, for all it felt like it. It was like the reverse of when Malos had gone after her: Instead of Malos seeing her, Millie was seeing through Malos’s eyes. She was scared, and Malos could feel that fear. He could also feel how Millie was relieved to _know:_ Her family was going to be okay this time. The monsters were going to be stopped.

Akhos’s arrow cracked the night sky with an electric bolt.

“Poppi! Time for secret protocol!” Tora commanded.

“Roger roger Masterpon!” Poppi acknowledged. “Releasing final lock!”

Ice ether poured from two directions. Jin’s familiar flavor of ice followed a heartbeat behind the oxymoron of boiling ice from Poppi. The horde of guldos began to slow as the temperature dropped. The moisture in the air crystallized into diamond dust inside fifteen seconds. Neither of the ice elements could hit absolute zero, but they got close enough to freeze limbs in place.

Malos could feel it. He could feel Millie’s wonder. Her Blades were all amazing, and her Big was the most amazing of all.

Ether poured out of Malos with the force of water cascading down falls. It rose as Malos lifted his weapon. It twisted as Malos twisted his blade. And it cut into the fabric of existence as Malos slashed his sword diagonal, cutting through to an end.

The acute absence of sound cut knife sharp.

 _Go_ , Malos urged his brat. _Go tell Jac we won. We’re coming home._

Millie’s phantom touch was sleepy, worn down as she had been with fear, hope, horror, and relief in equal parts. Malos closed his and Millie’s eyes.

When he opened them again, Malos was the only one looking through his own eyes.

Poppi’s soft voice shattered the silence: “Poppi is ninety nine percent positive that all of them.”

There was a quiet _thump_ from across the way.

“Mik’!” Patroka shouted, alarmed.

Malos had lost the ability to teleport when Mythra had cracked his Core Crystal. In the heartbeats between Patroka's concerned shout and Malos kneeling next to Mikhail, it _felt_ as though Malos had teleported. One blink he'd been standing still; the next he'd been at Mikhail's side. But he had not teleported because he could not and it was a damn good thing Malos had talked Millie into looking out her own eyes when he had.

"What the hell, Mik'?" Malos mumbled to himself. If Mikhail had been a battery, the ether charge he had stored up would have been enough to cause an explosion. Fortunately he was merely unconscious; the equivalent of a circuit breaker blowing, cutting off essential systems to prevent damage. Reaching and _reaching_ on automatic for Mikhail's Core Crystal, Malos started cataloging damage.

"Well?" Patroka demanded.

Malos pulled the excess ether from Mikhail's system via his weapons. The overcharged darkness element ether caused his fans to glow as it dissipated.

There was a hiss of steam followed by a quiet, "Poppi is tired, Masterpon," from the direction of Tora and Poppi.

"Masterpon is proud of Poppi. Used QT Pi mode much more today then ever before. Did bestest job with ice element ether engine. Once home, Poppi have extra long rest, then get super duper tuneup from daddapon and Tora," Tora promised.

"That sound nice," Poppi softly mused. "Is friend Mikhail okay? Ether level much much higher than estimated average."

Wait. Wait just a second...

"You've got data on Mik's ether levels?" Malos demanded.

"Yes. Poppi have record of when friends fight Mikhail in Mor Ardain and in Tantal."

"You also take a reading when you ran into us at Jac's house?"

"Of course! Poppi always take ether readings of surroundings to insure proper ether furnace efficiency."

Father bless crazy engineer Nopon and their mad science children.

"Give me the data for Mor Ardain, Tantal, and earlier this week. Don't adjust for estimated combat charge versus resting state." Malos already had that data.

Poppi began to rattle off figures with the same efficiency as a printer. Malos half closed his eyes, listening and _listening_ in a way that would have given him goosebumps a year ago.

But a year ago, Malos had Amalthus as a Driver; a black hole eating away at his ability to empathize with others and in turn neutering his true capabilities. A year ago his Core had been a cracked mess in more ways than one, leaving him ignorant of what an Aegis could truly do. Now...

Now, Malos wasn't working under a handicap. And just like Mythra and Pyra, Malos had a Driver who believed in him. That – made all the difference.

The rattle of data points came to a close. Malos let himself process it. Instinct sat up and _snarled_.

"Blade Eaters don't process ether like Blades," Malos hissed.

"Possible logic error. Zeke is Blade Eater and he process ether just fine on similar scale to Mikhail during Tantal battle," Poppi noted.

Tora chimed in, "Pandoria always with Zeke. May be mitigating factor?"

Malos rubbed his eyes with the hand not hovering over Mikhail's Core Crystal. He had some of the pieces to the puzzle: Mikhail's low ether charge after their spar on Azurda; his low charge when they'd been dealing with Zenobia's Core Crystal; his overcharge when Malos had cut loose. They were connected, but right now, Malos could not see _how_. And that irked him far more than the Core Crystal mess.

 _Mikhail is my brat's Blade. He's Torna. He's_ **mine** _. We are_ not _going to loose him!_

The kid's ether levels were back to nominal.

"He'll be fine with some sleep. Going to grill his ass with questions when he wakes up," Malos half warned, half swore.

Jin nodded, keeping his worry hidden with the ease of long practice. "Let's get back."

Patroka reached down and scooped Mikhail over her shoulder like he was an unruly sack of flower. Mikhail's weapons shimmered and then dispersed before they could fall from his lax grip. Growling under her breath about how Mikhail had _better_ be fine, something about, "I am not going to let you dump a screaming toddler on our heads, Mik'," Patroka moved out.

Akhos hesitated. "Not to distract from the immediate issue," he let a sweeping gesture indicating the frosty battlefield's remains fill in for his _but_.

"Two thirds of that mess came up from the Cloud Sea," Malos pointed out.

"Yes! Poppi saw them from windmill!" chimed Poppi.

"Have the Army investigate?" Akhos figured.

"Might as well let them earn their pay," Patroka snarled. "Now come on! Idiots weigh more than they look."

No one present was willing to poke that comment with a ten pede pole. And so, they all trudged back to Torigoth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I maybe am almost sort of done writing this...? If I am correct and am not further ambushed by bunnies, there should be about a chapter a week as I go through editing everything. Please enjoy~!


	19. Coloring and Other Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post combat filler, now with added plot shenanigans.
> 
> Warning: There’s some loss of parental type person angst at the end of this chapter.

Holding up a wall, arms crossed over his chest, Malos gave Jin’s Torna a good looking over. The Grand Marshal was like as not trying to curry favor with Malos by letting them use the smallest available recreation room. It fit their immediate needs: A round table big enough and with chairs enough for six, a flat board on the wall for going over diagrams, and a working coffee maker with mugs. It probably had spy equipment installed, too.

Millie was seated in Patroka's lap, a miniature rainbow of wax coloring sticks arrayed around a coloring book. Mikhail had his head on the table, half asleep, seated close enough for his brat to reach out and tug his hair. A pot of coffee was in grabbing distance if he decided to indulge. Just past the pot, closer to the center of the table, was a brat sized mug of cooling mocha. Caffeine free mocha: They did not need Millie bouncing off the walls.

Also in grabbing distance of Mikhail was Akhos. The healer _looked_ like his attention was on a stack of reports he'd wheedled out of Jac. From the intensity of the ether prickle around him, Akhos had his full attention on Mikhail. Jin was standing across from Malos and was likewise leaning against a wall.

"A Crown Summit?" Jin echoed.

Malos shrugged, "That's what the Special Inquisitor said yesterday." A smile tugged at Malos's lips. "She also said Cressidus picked up the Emperor after he woke. Hasn't put him down since."

"Would too have," Mikhail mumbled defensively. "Kid's gotta eat, sleep, and shit."

Malos looked a request to his brat. Without pausing in her coloring, Millie reached over and gave Mikhail's hair a tiny tug.

"'s true!" Mikhail protested, working himself up to glaring at Malos without lifting his head from the table.

"According to this," Akhos flicked the reports, "the Summit will be in Tantal one week from today. When accounting for the speed of politics, it's more realistic the Summit will be a week and a half to two weeks out."

"Tantal?" At Akhos's affirmative, Malos grinned. With teeth. "Indol is going to hate that."

"Who's attending?" Jin asked.

Akhos took a second look at the papers. "Uraya, Mor Ardain, Tantal, naturally. Indol has not been informed. Hum. Looks like a request had been made to," Akhos paused to give the line a dramatic reading, "the Aegis Blades currently in service to the independent mercenary group Garfont, of residence in Leftherian Archipelago."

Malos rolled his eyes. "Matter of time before they got hit with pompous titles."

Jin eyed Malos.

Malos confirmed, "I got asked."

Jin waited.

Rolling his eyes again, Malos yielded, "Yes, I think we should go. I want a second opinion from my idiot relations on Mikhail and on the Core Crystals."

"I," Mikhail started to say.

"Mik'el," Millie pouted.

Mikhail returned fire with his own pout. "I'm _fine,_ " he whined.

"You're low on ether. Again. _After_ having been overcharged yesterday. You are not fine," Akhos countered fiercely. Millie backed Akhos's assessment by putting down her wax sticks and upping the wattage on her pout.

Mikhail heaved a dramatic sigh on par with Millie's age. "At least this chronic weirdness doesn't hurt."

Malos freezing had little to do with the sudden drop in room temperature.

Meek as a brat up to their elbows in applesauce, Mikhail slunk lower in his chair.

Millie craned her neck to look up at Patroka. "Pack?" Her fingers flickered, _Please?_

Nodding, Patroka hauled Mikhail (to his yelping displeasure) so he sat upright. Then kept holding him up long enough for Millie to crawl, with assistance, into Mikhail's lap; whereupon she wrapped her arms around Mikhail's middle and hugged the heck out of him.

"You're not a toddler," Mikhail complained. "You're an adorable weapon of angst disruption. Lethal cute. Horrible, horrible brat."

"Yeah, and she loves you, too, shut up, Mik'," Malos snarked on Millie's behalf.

Millie let go so as to lean back and look Mikhail in the eye. Careful with each word, Millie did her best to spell out: _Big made all my always hurtie ouchies go away. He'll make yours go away too because Big is amazing_ _and he loves you too_ _._

If anyone claimed Malos was blushing, he would end them, so help him Father.

"Sorry, Mil’. I only got about half of that," Mikhail apologized.

"We're going to find the problem and kill it dead," Patroka translated.

Millie gave Patroka a look crossing delight at being understood and unamused resignation at Patroka's fixation on killing everything.

"Aw, Patroka! You _do_ care!" When Patroka scoffed, Mikhail laughed, "Just hearing that makes me feel better already."

Akhos got to Mikhail first by dint of sitting right next to him. Mikhail jerked back in his seat in an aborted leap away from Akhos's lunge. Malos focused on Millie's half of his Core Crystal in an attempt to get a better read.

"Your ether level jumped," Akhos explained before Mikhail could open his mouth to ask what the hell.

"He's channeling to Millie," Malos reported. Something about that tickled Malos's attention.

Mikhail blinked. "Oops?"

" _Don't._ "

Wary, and for good reason, Mikhail eyed Akhos and Malos.

 _Brat words_ , Millie spelled out.

Getting the hint, Malos spoke up: "Being low on ether for a Blade is not just being tired, Mik'. It's – closest thing is starvation."

"A close enough analogy. It _is_ rather like starving to death, slowly," Akhos concurred.

"But I'm not hungry," Mikhail countered.

"It's an _analogy_ , not an exact comparison," Akhos huffed. And then frowned. Mikhail leaned back as far as chair and brat would allow. "You... You can shut off your ether flow," Akhos accused.

"Er... Yes?"

" _Mikhail,_ " Akhos growled.

One hand holding Millie secure, Mikhail threw up his free hand in exasperation. "Use smaller words! You say _ether flow_ , I think _this_ ," Mikhail gestured to the barely visible blue link between himself and Millie.

"That is an ether link. The ether flow is the flow you pick up from ambient ether in the atmosphere," Akhos explained.

"Oh." Mikhail gave Millie a slight squeeze. "Well – yeah. I learned pretty damn fast how to control that. If I hadn't, I'd have ended up like Gort. ...or had my chest explode. Fifty/fifty either way."

Jin stood; his fists closed tight. Ice touched the air around him in a shimmering haze. Slowly breathing out, Jin got his ether back under control.

Leaning forward to reach, Patroka smacked her palm against the back of Mikhail’s head. She waited a beat for Mikhail’s ears to quit ringing before demanding, “Wake _up_ , Mik’! You’re a _Blade_! Blades _die_ if they don’t have sufficient ether!”

Rubbing the back of his head, Mikhail blinked. He opened his mouth. Shut it. Looked from Patroka, skipped over Akhos’s glare, checked Malos giving him a _look_. When his eyes got to Jin, Mikhail blinked a second time.

Jin nodded; a crisp, sharp bob affirmative.

“Whops…?” Mikhail managed lamely.

Rolling his eyes, Akhos looked heavenward in entreaty. “ _Whops_ , he says.” Akhos wagged his finger in Mikhail’s face. “You will desist shutting off your ether flow below where its currently at henceforth. And you will practice keeping your flow at this level during combat, especially,” Akohos ran over Mikhail trying to get a word in edgewise, “ _especially_ when Malos is using his full capabilities. Is that understood?”

Mikhail started to say something.

Whatever he was going to say got shut down by Millie reaching up and patting Mikhail’s chest, close but not touching his Core Crystal. Looking down at the toddler in his lap, Mikhail found Millie was pouting fiercely.

“Brat is going to sit on you every damn day if she has to, Mik’,” Malos warned, only wishing it were a joke. Mikhail was Millie’s, and she was a very clingy kid when she was in a mood.

Mikhail sighed, “Right, right, tone down the wattage, Mil’. I get it.” Mikhail lifted Millie so that their foreheads could touch. “I get it,” Mikhail promised, voice soft.

Resting her forehead against Mikhail’s, Millie murmured, “Mik’.” It was the closest her limited vocabulary could get her to, _You better._

The silence held for a while longer. One problem resolved; a whole host more were left to contend with.

Patroka rolled her eyes. Sighing, "Whatever. Idiot," she moved all of Millie's coloring things so that Millie could continue her coloring campaign from Mikhail's lap. Without further promoting than a blink, Mikhail moved himself and Millie so that Patroka could still be "involved" with Millie's coloring activities.

 _My brat has Torna wrapped around her little fingers,_ Malos mused, amused.

"Now that _that_ is a problem solved..." Akhos hesitated a fraction. "About the guldos."

Millie froze; her lower lip wobbled in a way that threatened tears, panic, or both. Mikhail put both arms around her and upped the amount of ether he was channeling. (Instinctively or consciously? Malos was going to grill him on that, later.)

"Any sign of how they got here?" Jin inquired.

"That would be the first problem: No." Akhos plucked a number of pages from the stack he had been reviewing. Offering them to Jin, Akhos continued, "The preliminary report is troubling. So far as depth probe scanners can tell, there is nothing along the shores of Gormott that was not originally there. It's as if they decided to walk here along the Cloud Sea bed."

"Depth would have cracked their Crystals," Malos noted.

"So if they didn't walk, they had to have hitched a ride," Mikhail pointed out the obvious.

"And that ride didn't stick around." Patroka picked up the red wax stick to fiddle with.

"Intelligent enemy action," Jin hummed. "The Empire of Mor Ardain was assaulted."

"Flamebringer was pissed," Malos recalled, a little thrill racing up his spine at the memory. He had seen that expression before, in Elysium. There was going to be one hell of a fight. The thought of Elysium brought up another concern: "Those earlier ghostfire sightings. Did the Army trace them?"

"They did," Akhos confirmed. Malos arched an eyebrow. Akhos continued, "And. They found – nothing. No sign of guldos, living or dead. Monsters in the area were aggressive but not outside the norm."

"A set-up," Jin surmised. "Preparation for the attack on Torigoth."

"A bit of a leap in logic," Akhos pointed out without argument.

"They got here somehow, and it wasn't by walking," Patroka tacked on. She paused, borrowed wax stick hovering over the edge of a coloring book page. Her eyes shot to Malos in a silent, _Right?_

"Guldos don't have their own will," Malos confirmed. "Saying, _they stick to their own territory_ , makes them sound smarter than they are. They have a defensive instinct. It's not within their capabilities to go wandering off on their own."

"So they got picked up from their place; dumped off in the middle of nowhere," Patroka mused.

"At least their idea of nowhere," Mikhail attempted to quipped.

"Tried to shamble back to their territory, and rolled right over anything in their way," Patroka concluded. She colored in a corner of what looked like the start of a sunset. "Sucks."

Shaking a little, Millie managed to pick up a wax stick. The blue one. With careful, deliberate strokes, Millie started coloring in the... grass. Well. Blue grass was a thing in Uraya.

 _You're gonna be okay, brat,_ Malos wanted to say but did not dare. He got the feeling Millie received the message loud and clear.

"Uraya conceded to having been likewise assaulted via unofficial deniable channels," Akhos hummed. "The upper echelon of political society are making worried noises in both Mor Ardain and Uraya. They're thinking the assailants are guldos. In fact, the only major power that has not confessed to having guldo problems – or suspected guldo problems – has been Indol. Granted, they don't have much of a Titan or a territory left _to_ be assaulted. They got what they do have by using up their clout before information about Amalthus's eccentricities could be widely aired."

"I really could have sworn I sunk their Titan," Mikhail grumbled.

Patroka snorted, "Not surprised those modifications they made extended to more than just weapons."

Malos felt the start of a growl; leashed it with a will. "Modified?" Malos demanded.

"Judicium style," Mikhail confirmed.

"To be fair, Mik', you _did_ sink Indol. Most of it, anyway." Akhos flourished a printout of a long distance photo. Immediately recognizable was Indol's central cathedral; or at least what was left of it. Around forty to fifty percent of it was either gone or ruble. Where the Titan's head, forelimbs, wings, legs, and tail should have been were great ashy gashes of burned flesh.

"Got everything but the central complex," Mikhail noted, frowning.

"Once the – whatever it was happened to create New Elysium, the remains of Indol wound up lodged on a shoal two hundred Titan pedes off the coast. Their closest neighbors are Tantal. By close, I mean a little over three thousand Titan pedes between them," Akhos clarified. He tossed the picture towards the middle of the table so it was visible to all. "Coming right around to the Crown Summit, Indol's lack of invitation thereto."

"Are we or aren't we going?" Malos asked in general.

Patroka did not bother to look up from coloring. Mikhail held Millie near, and looked the question to Jin. Akhos added an artless shrug. Jin closed his eyes, sighed, and looked to Malos. Which was _freaking weird_... but no longer quite _as_ weird.

"Guess that means we're going," Malos hummed.

Jin nodded affirmative, adding a light, "Guess so."

"Is Tantal still an ice Blade's paradise?" Mikhail inquired.

"Yes, Mik'," Malos rolled his eyes for the fifth time that morning, "you get to take the brat shopping."

Grinning, Mikhail reached for the coffee pot.

* * *

 

There was a ping at his desk.

Closing the book of scriptures, he rose from his chair. The ping was from a private line installed by his predecessor. Very few individuals knew of its existence. Fewer still dared to use it. Any call through on this line meant a matter of utmost importance.

Activating the concealed receiver, he announced his attention with a simple, "Yes?"

"Forgive the interruption, Lord Praetor, but we have news most critical."

Ah. His spymaster. Not a man easily flustered, given he had served first under Rhadallis and then under Amalthus. Both administrations had been dyed with blood – yet this man had kept the faith. He was a most useful zealot.

"Proceed."

"Sir. The operation in Gormott concluded with mixed results. Torigoth was untouched. All of the Architect's Condemned were felled by a single Blade."

A smirking snear tugged at his lips. "It is he."

"Without a doubt, Lord Praetor. We have further news from the faithful in Mor Ardain and Uraya. Calls have been made for a Crown Summit. It is to be held presently."

"I've heard nothing of this."

"Indeed, Lord Praetor. It is to be hosted by Tantal."

" _Tantal?!_ " That bunch of belly-crawling, cowardly, rotting, hypocritical worms! How _dare_ they usurp Indol's holy right as the Architect's chosen land!

"So I am informed, Lord Praetor. Discussions are under way to insure the Aegis Blades attend."

His brows wrinkled as he frowned. "Blades? Plural?"

"Indeed."

"Interesting. Most interesting. Draft a list of what resources we have to hand and meet me in the Holy Chamber. We have work to do, Brother."

"As the Architect ordains."

Returning his book of scriptures to its spot on the bookshelf, he allowed himself fond amusement. All too soon the world would be reminded of the glory of Indol.

* * *

 

Fire skipped across his guard.

Half trained instinct, half uncoordinated panic, and he was rolling away from the source of the blast. His weapon hummed with ether as it shifted from a partial shield to a wave-shaped sword. Lunging forward, he attempted to break his partner's guard. Too skilled, their lithe form twisted out of his blade's way. Two right hands grabbed him by his sword arm; two left hands kept him from falling face first into the dirt.

"Marked improvement, O Driver mine. You still have significant room to refine your technique. Your stance, here," Perdido adjusted his footing slightly. "You feel how the balance improves?"

Nodding around breathlessness, Niall concurred.

"You have several bad habits. It will take time to shatter them all. Shatter them we shall," Perdido promised.

"My thanks for the lesson," Niall managed, breathing steadying. "My thanks to you as well, Sever, for the use of your weapon."

The lizard-man Blade gave a neutral grunt bordering on amused. Taking his weapon back, Sever noted, "You are getting better with it."

"I shall not consider it true success until I can use all three of my Blades' weapons," Niall declared.

"A lofty goal," Perdido hummed.

"You think it unobtainable?" Niall queried, tone neutral.

"It's doable – five years from now," Sever hissed. The lizard gave Niall's right arm a testing, teasing squeeze. "Muscle you need to lug around Cressidus's weapons doesn't get built up overnight. Takes time; hard work. Ether can make up for some of it, but the rest is on you." A hint of a smile pulled on Sever's lips of sorts. "You got the will for the hard work. We'll make sure you get the time."

Nodding his thanks, Niall turned his attention back to the running of Mor Ardain. "Time I fear of which we have run short today. The Crown Summit is swiftly approaching."

"Let us then make haste and see how Creasidus fairs with Aegeaon and your footmen," Perdido suggested.

Feeling physically tired but mentally invigorated, Niall concurred with Perdido's suggestion. He proceeded forward towards the palace, away from the training grounds, ready to face whatever challenges may yet come his way.

Observing from a distance, Brighid allowed herself a secret smile. It was good to see Niall in such high spirits. Better, to know she would never again see her Driver cradle the too brave boy's corpse.

* * *

 

Checklist, checklist, where had Akhos put the – ah-ha! Brushing streamers of braided flowers aside, Akhos unburied the clipboard and it's attached checklist. The Crown Summit was going to happen in three days; they needed to be on the boat for Tantal within two hours. All actors needed to be in their places. There wasn't time to waste!

Item one: Trunk full of Millie's things.

Akhos eyed the trunk warily. Mikhail had been tinkering with it, adding compartments and locks and Architect knew what else. In addition to Millie's personal effects, it contained a hodge-podge collection of knickknacks all of Torna had collected. Akhos moved the trunk to the designated pickup spot and checked it off the list.

Item two: Emergency applesauce.

Technically two separate things; but the Ardanians who would be shaking down their luggage did not need to be bogged down with details. Both were secure in the trunk... or should have been.

"Mikhail!"

From the depths of the inn, Mikhail's voice floated back in an annoyed, "What now, Akhos?"

To save what few good graces they had left with the innkeeper, Akhos headed for Mikhail rather than continue yelling. "Did you do any fiddling with Millie's trunk last night?"

Akhos paused as he took in the half destroyed state of the men's quarters. It had not looked a rampaging buloofo had gone wild fifteen minutes ago.

"No!" Mikhail insisted, from... somewhere in the mess's bowels.

Akhos gave the mess a second look. Deliberately, Akhos checked off emergency applesauce from the list.

"Do be sure to--"

"Shut up, Akhos."

Not as stupid as Mikhail, Akhos left.

Item three: Readily accessible toddler distractions.

With Millie's increase in good health had come a spike in her activity. Keeping coloring books, small puzzles, picture books, _something_ , on hand was mandatory. A bored toddler was a recipe for problems. A bored _Driver_ toddler was a disaster best avoided. Last Akhos had know, the satchel purchased for toddler goodies had been given to Malos...?

Looking into the girls' room, Akhos discovered the satchel had been handed off to its owner. Millie was studying an array of goodies with fierce intensity. From where he was lounged across a bed flipping through a magazine, Malos gave Akhos a look.

"We're supposed to be on the boat in two hours," Akhos stated.

Malos snorted, turning back to his magazine. Millie hummed; with exaggerated care, she selected a packet of colored wax sticks.

Rolling his eyes, Akhos checked off item three from the list.

Item four was sidetracked by the muted report of an explosion. Which answered Akhos's next question of where his dear sister was. From the feel of ice ether reacting to the burst of wind and earth, Jin was already at work getting Zenobia separated from Patroka.

 _Siblings_ , Akhos bemoaned. _Can't live with them. Can't commit fratricide._

* * *

 

Fluttering down the playhouse hall, Obrona giggled to herself. It'd been a little over a week since she had awoken as Iona's Blade, and Obrona couldn't remember a time she'd been happier. Akhos had been turning into such a stick in the mud! It was still sad what had happened to him; he'd been so nice before! But at least… At least he wasn't _dead_. He'd probably just written that to help Iona feel better.

Reaching absently across the ether link, Obrona zeroed in on Iona's current hiding spot. This game of tag had been going pretty okay. Not nearly as fancy or as zappy as Obrona would have preferred. Then again, Iona didn't like much in the way of explosions.

Obrona recalled their first heart-to-heart with a fond giggle: _If anybody ever tries to kidnap you again, we'll just stab 'em full of holes!_

Iona had looked scandalized, like Obrona had threatened to behead her favorite doll. _I don't want to_ kill _anyone! That'd be just as bad as what happened to Mr. Vandham!_

 _Err… We could zap them?_ Obrona had offered.

Iona's wondering expression had been hilarious.

Leaping into the room, Obrona cheered, "I found you!"

Iona was sitting on the floor. She... wasn't moving.

The unfamiliar zing of alarm jolted down Obrona's spine. Amusing game forgotten, Obrona hurried to her Driver's side. "Iona? Iona, what's wrong? Did – Did somebody...?"

Iona raised her head. Tears choked the word, "Grandpa....!"

Obrona spread her senses to count off the ether signatures within the playhouse. Her count came up short one darkness element Flesh Eater. There were lingering traces of Cole's ether signature, but they were dimming. They also weren't... moving...

Oh... Iona's grandpa was dead.

Obrona wrapped Iona in a hug, and held tight as her Driver's world fractured around them.

* * *

 

He stands in a place that is a void. There are stars above and a cloudy planet below. Absently, he recognizes one of the shapes beneath the clouds. He was there not but five minutes ago. Now he is here and he is confused.

"So you weren't horsin' me, old man! You really were one hell of a Blade in yer prime!"

Startled into blinking, he turns. He knows that voice. Knows that person to whom the voice belongs to. It is impossible for that person to be breathing, though. He knows quite well that man has been dead for over a –

"Oh hell." He runs his hand roughly through his hair. There are no aches in his bones; no stiffness in his joints; no soreness in his back. "Oh hell," he repeats with emphasis, "I'm dead."

A beefy arm belonging to a man as large as life smacks into his back. "Yer curtain closed, old man," says Vandham. The long dead merc's voice is rough with a mix of sympathy and warm delight at seeing an old friend.

Running his hand once more through his hair – his brown hair; not a strand of gray to be seen – he sighs, "This is going to break Iona."

"Yer grandkid is stronger than you givver credit for," Vandham promises.

He shakes his head. "I know. I _know_. But you didn't see her after –"

"I did," Vandham interrupts. "Was a nice eulogy Dromarch gave. Not damned nice as that play!" The amusement settles, and Vandham shakes his shoulders. "Ease up, old friend. That little devil of a pixie will help Iona get herself back together in record time. You knew that yerself er else you'd never had let her resonate with the Core Crystal."

"It's called a contingency plan. I know you used to know what those were," he shoots back.

Vandham laughs, "True enough." Vandham gives him another little shake. "This isn't the end of the road, you know."

"Oh?" he asks. Curiosity and sadness muddle in his guts. It leaves him wondering how he can have guts when he no longer has a body. A lingering remembrance of life carried on into death?

"You learn a few interestin' tidbits out here. Did you know the one difference between a human's soul and a Blade's soul is the anchor points? How it fits into a body?"

"I left theology to the clergy," he quips.

Vandham chuckles, "Wise, that! Say... Which name you prefer? Can't keep calling you _old man_ for the rest of eternity!"

He thinks on it. He had been Cole for five hundred years. He had been Minoth for close to two, nearly three hundred years. Both names hold memories bitter, sweet, and tender. He cannot truly choose between both or either.

"Might as well try being Minoth for a while again," Minoth decides.

Vandham gives him another shake. "Come on then, old man Minoth! Lemme introduce you to a bloke I met up here. You might ah heard of him. Goes by the pen name Architect."


	20. Crown Summit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the title drops.

Tantal was as full of ice as Jin remembered it. Standing in the snow, Jin breathed in his element. Their escorts were a full pede back. The others were half a pede away. His Driver was bundled in a fur parka, and further protected by a trickle of ether from Malos. There were no other living souls for Titan pedes in any direction.

Jin allowed himself a rare delicacy: He allowed himself to relax.

His own ether reserves twisted the already voluminous ice into a small snow flurry. Diamond dust ice drifted around in a chill shroud. The cold wind kissed his cheek. If he let himself, Jin could pretend it was Lora's hand, the girl herself taking simple joy in watching Jin's tension freeze away. Breathing in the peaceful ice, Jin breathed out his concerns; his trepidation and his fears. Jin let himself _be_ just another lump of ice on the frozen grounds.

Millie's delighted giggles brought a smile to Jin's lips. Such a simple thing, a child's laughter. So easy to invoke. So deep a treasured gift.

"Yeah. Jin's pretty badass," Malos rumbled, amusement clear as chimes.

"I think badass is not the word Millie has in mind," Akhos quipped.

Millie's bare hands darted after flickering glitters of diamond dust. Her expression wrinkled into confused disappointment when none of the glitters stayed caught. She turned in Malos's arms to better look at her Blade. Presenting her empty hands asked the question for her.

"It's ice," Malos explained. "Tiny bits of ice. It's called diamond dust because of how it sparkles. Yes," Malos rolled his eyes at Millie's incredulity, "ice can come that small."

Millie looked at Jin, and blinked.

With a gesture Jin directed his ether to flow. It curled in the air, freezing the world's breath. Specks of ice too small to see with the naked eye turned the air into a tapestry of day-lit stars. Bright peals of laughter echoed through the pass. Looking at Jin, Malos nodded at Millie, then at the dancing diamond dust. Jin's eyes went fractionally wider. Was Malos suggesting...?

And then, gently, Malos put Millie down.

The toddler took off after the swirls of ice.

Alarmed, Jin twisted the ether so that the ice dissolved. Turning where she'd stopped, complete with a tiny foot stomp, Millie pouted at Jin. Her lip wobbled. She added a carefully spelled, _Please?_

Somewhere within the flow of ether, Lora was giggling at him.

A little at a time, Jin resumed the twist of will which let diamond dust form. Millie squeaked with delight and charged after the flurries. A trickle of strength sent the dust spiraling ahead – not too far – and then twisting on itself back towards Malos. With each twist and turn of the dust, Millie lept forward, jumping and squeaking with boundless glee.

Nia's mirthful snort carried across the snow: "Is she part Nopon? All that squeaking and bouncing reminds me of Tora."

"Tora not _that_ squeaky," the Nopon in question grumbled.

"Masterpon just as squeaky when have new design idea," Poppi corrected promptly. A soft, " _meh-meh_ ," served as Tora's reply.

"Do I have to wear the shirt?" Zenobia whined.

"Yes," Yachink repeated, and not for the last time, "you have to wear the shirt."

Walking near Nia with a safe distance between himself and his Blades, Jac tried to hide an embarrassed blush in his winter coat's collar. Ears twitching with unvoiced laughter, Nia skipped past Dromarch, Tora, and Poppi. She stopped far short of Malos and the dancing flurries.

"Planning to get her run out of steam by time we hit Theseior?" Nia guessed.

Malos grunted, neither an affirmative nor a negative.

"Wotchin' over a sleeping brat won't get you out of puttin' in an appearance, you know. Not when even Pyra is having to step in," Nia pointed out, a touch of feline maliciousness in her grin.

Malos grunted a second time.

If asked, Jin would deny he intentionally directed a drift of diamond dust at Nia. Intentionally directed an overactive toddler at her, on the other hand… Letting out an, “ _oomph_!”, Nia took a toddler to the shins with grace. Malos was not the only one who snickered at Nia collapsing under an exaggerated cry for help. The one-time member of Torna began to quip –

A flicker of electric ether. A gasp of instinct; _move!_

A heavy metallic object crunched into the snow where Jin had been standing. Out the corner of his eye as he rose from his crouch, Jin saw Malos waving off Mikhail, Akhos, and Patroka.

“Welcome back to Tantal!”

Jin was unsure if he should prepare for battle or relax as he identified his attacker. “Thunderbolt Zeke.”

The crown prince of Tantal shouldered the broadsword which was his hallmark weapon. “I never did get a chance to pay you back for the first time you said _hello._ So!” The human took an exaggerated step forward; he telegraphed a non-threatening point. “Hello, frosty! Welcome back to the land of the living! Oh,” his expression fell, “and hello you asshats, Malos and company.”

Malos crossed his arms, growling.

“Don’t mind my Prince too much. He’s really excited to see everyone,” said a bubbly voice.

Millie gave a curious coo.

“Oh! Forgot! Haven’t introduced myself yet! I’m Pandoria! You must be Millie. We’ve heard _all_ about you from Rex, Pyra, and Mythra. Poppi sent loads of letters, too!” There was a tiny flash of electric ether, a flashbulb of barely contained excitement. “Did you really climb a monster tree for an apple all by yourself?”

Millie’s shy pride brushed the ether link.

“That must have been an amazing adventure! You’ve got to tell me all about on our way to Theseoir,” Pandoria requested.

“Did Poppi also send you one of those books?” Nia inquired.

“Got our copy right here!” Zeke crowed, pulling out a familiar book.

“What,” Malos managed.

“Poppi thought it good idea to insure Millie have many people to talk to, especially people of equivalent intellectual age,” Poppi spoke up.

It took Akhos a moment to say, “I’m not sure we should count that as a compliment or an insult.”

Pandoria giggled in a way that brought to mind pending mischief. “So… Zeke and I know Jin, and Nia, Dromarch, Tora, and Poppi, of course. And we know Malos. Sort of. Its complicated. But,” she drug out the preposition, “I don’t think we’ve ever met any of your other friends. You know, like, got to know their names. Could you introduce us?”

Wariness and eagerness prickled the link. It was almost enough for Jin to turn and take his eyes off Thunderbolt Zeke; however, the Tantalese had yet to sheathe his weapon.

Malos must have given Millie a signal. Jin heard small feet crunch snow as a bright determined giggle glittered in the air. The crown prince of Tantal clipped his weapon to its sheathe.

Millie made a sound that began with an “ _ack_ ” and ended on a sneeze. At least something that sounded like a sneeze.

“Akhos, huh? Hard _k_ sounds give everybody trouble,” bubbled the electric Blade. “Nice to meet you!”

“...likewise?” Akhos attempted.

Zeke was booming, “Words are expressions of the soul! Which is why they are the _farthest_ things from easy!”

Keeping Zeke where Jin could see him, Jin turned back to face –

 _...I doubt they’re going to be an immediate threat,_ Jin decided.

Pandoria was bent double, two fingers held in Millie’s right hand’s vice grip. She followed along at a shuffle to better match Millie’s tiny quickstep pace. Even if she wished to move swiftly, it would be difficult for Pandoria to do so; especially not when Patroka was willing and able to part the Blade’s head from her shoulders if need be. From the angle Pandoria was at, Patroka would have no difficulties.

“Pa-to-ah!” Millie managed. She bounced as she squeaked, _pack!_ Trying a second time got her to, “Patrola!”

“Patroka!” Pandoria crowed. Millie’s smile brightened. Somehow managing to look serious while still bent double, Pandoria offered her hand, “Nice to meet you, Patroka!”

Patroka gave a token slap to Pandoria’s outstretched hand. “Whatever,” she sighed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes.

Millie skipped as she drug Pandoria further. “Mik’el! Mik’el!”

“Nickle?” Pandoria guessed.

“Mikhail,” the man himself corrected.

“Oh. Rolling _h_. Another tricky one. Nice to meet you!”

“Likewise, beautiful.” Mikhail bent low to press a kiss to the back of Pandoria’s hand.

Pandoria gave him a _look_. “You’re going to be trouble.”

“Feel free to kick his ass if he acts like one,” Patroka chimed as she stomped past.

“Pandoria and Mikhail have very important common denominator,” Poppi chimed.

“Oh yeah?” Mikhail snagged an arm around Millie’s middle absently, adding, “Hey, Mil’, let me carry you for a bit, okay?” Smiling brightly but tiredly, Millie rested her head against Mikhail’s shoulder. Giving his Driver a fond hair ruffle, Mikhail turned his attention back to the conversation. “So what’s the very important common denominator, eh? Good looks? Quick wit?”

“If I had to take a stab at it,” Zeke opined, swinging wide so as to walk next to Pandoria, “I’d have to say its this,” and pulled back the left hand side of his coat so his bare chest was exposed. From his position, Jin could not see the entirety of the wound; however, he could estimate its severity based on the scarring. The human had some impressive luck and skill to have survived such an injury.

Mikhail tightened his hold on Millie. He swallowed on a dry throat. It took him a beat to croak, “Blade Eater. Huh.”

Zeke straightened his jacket once more. “Bandits nearly punched my ticket.”

“We got lucky,” Pandoria hummed. “If Amalthus hadn’t deiced to take a morning constitutional when he did, Zeke and me wouldn’t have made it.”

“Amalthus,” Mikhail repeated. The disbelief in his tone asked his questions for him.

“I know, right?” Pandoria giggled.

“Given what we know about the blighter now, seems pretty damn impossible,” Zeke concurred. “But,” he and Pandoria shrugged in perfect unison, “that’s the way it happened. Amalthus saved our lives using Blade Eater tech. Then he turned around and asked for nothing in return.”

“In hindsight,” Pandoria rested her hand under her chin in unison with Zeke doing the same, “he might have said not to worry about paying him back just to make sure we did. We acted as unofficial envoys and go-fors for Indol for _years_ , you know.”

“Weak as a wet paper bag, Amalthus was. Twisted mind sharp as a steel trap, though. Have to give him that much,” Zeke hummed. “Say! How do you lot know about Blade Eater tech? Thought you were all Flesh Eaters.”

Jin contemplated intervening. But Mikhail’s expression as he bounced Millie so as to adjust his hold on her decided Jin against acting for the moment. The boy was not defenseless against his past demons; nor was he unarmed. A Driver was a powerful ally for a Blade irregardless of their age. Further, Akhos was near enough to step in if needed. So too were Malos and Patroka.

“They didn’t move on to the idea to use portions of an already awakened Blade’s Core Crystal until around fifty years into their experiments. They started with whole Core Crystals, resonating them directly inside a human body. One in four turned into something that would feel right at home in Morytha. One in three died, and I’m not going to go into details how. It was ugly. One in one hundred...”

Zeke took a guess when Mikhail’s voice trailed off: “One in one hundred was a lucky son of a volff, eh?”

There was no humor in Mikhail’s snort of laughter.

Zeke nodded, contemplative. “That explains an awful lot, chum. Anybody who had lived through that would want revenge. I have some pretty pointed disagreements with how you went about it – but I damn well can’t blame you for it. Amalthus made it look like he gave a damn about Alrest, so why _not_ stick it to him by sinking it all to the Cloud Sea’s bed?”

“He was a good actor,” Pandoria mused.

“Right up until he went all eat everything bananas,” Zeke concurred.

“...right up until what?” Mikhail blinked.

Zeke and Pandoria exchanged looks. They looked back at Mikhail. “Really not the kind of story you want to hear sober, if you catch my drift,” Zeke stated. Pandoria pointed at Millie.

No. Hearing about how Amalthus had lost his mind at the end was not a tale for young ears.

“Haven’t had much in the way of booze in a while,” Mikhail hummed, catching their hints.

“I found a great spirit distilled right here in Tantal. Can make even a Blade Eater drunk as a fish in one bottle!” Zeke crowed.

“There’s a reason its only sold on the black market,” Pandoria noted, rolling her eyes.

“You lot better not get drunk expecting me to deal with yer hangovers,” Nia spoke up.

“Eh, lighten up, fuzzy ears,” Zeke quipped.

“Watch it, shellhead,” Nia hissed in turn.

The conversation devolved into amicable bickering punctuated by commentary from all sides. Jin was struck by a sense of déjà vu. The people involved, the jokes told, the cadence of the words were all different. The feelings invoked brought sharp smells of campfire smoke, of starlit skies, the sound of ship ether engines humming in the night. A brush of wind which could be confused for a hand ghosted across his forearm.

It was a feeling of homesickness and being home all at once.

* * *

 

They reached the gates of the capital city with no further delays. Millie was content to stay in Mikhail’s arms for the remainder of the trek, practicing her words with Pandoria without complaint or contention. It said something Patroka really did not want to look too closely at that Pandoria already had the whole book memorized. As did that louder than life crown prince.

“Never thought I’d meet someone with a bigger mouth than Mik’,” Patroka hummed.

Akhos took off his glasses so as to polish the lenses clean again. “He’s a rather vibrant example of the trope Bundit Eared Lawyer,” Akhos concurred.

Mmph. Patroka had spent too much time with Akhos when he was in a playwright mood. She actually _got_ that reference.

The guard on gate duty approached their group. Patroka half expected him to demand they halt. Instead the guard went straight for Thunderbolt Zeke. A murmured, “Sir,” and the guard was handing off a note. A nod from the crown prince, and the guard was quick-stepping back to his post.

“Wot is it now?” Nia demanded with a roll of her eyes.

“An update from my old man. According to this,” Zeke flicked the note, “the Mor Ardanian contingent is already here. Flew right on in with that fancy battleship Titan of theirs. Uraya is due in within the next half hour or so. Got delayed by engine trouble, or so they say.”

“Perhaps they are wishing to make a dramatic entrance,” Dromarch opined.

“Could be. No point in worrying about it. Rex and the others came in with Mòrag.” Zeke looked Jin in the eye. “The old man wants to meet you. You, specifically, I mean. The Blade of the Paragon of Torna.”

Jin gaped. It was Mikhail who recovered first: “Where did you hear that title?”

Zeke folded his arms over his chest. “Tantal was founded on a lie. Said we were the decedents of Addam. If our forefathers wanted to make that lie work, they needed at least a little truth to back it up. One of the founders, a man named Zettar, was able to recover some of the old bits and pieces from Torna itself. At least he said it was. One of those pieces was a record of Drivers and their Blades who fell in defense of the kingdom. The records included a brief physical description. First time I saw you I knew I’d heard of you before. After the whole World Tree mess, I went digging through the archives.

“I – ah – may have let slip to the old man your description matched the Blade of Knight Lora, better known as the Knight Paragon of Torna.”

“Knight Lora the Paragon of…?” Mikhail echoed. Patroka eyed the blond warily given his expression was a tossup between amusement and despair. He turned his look towards Torna’s center. “Jin?”

Jin swallowed. Quiet, Jin murmured, “She earned it. More so than I ever did.”

Zeke looked between Mikhail and Jin. Without any heaving dramatics, Zeke asked, “I take it the title of the Driver in truth belonged to the Blade.”

“Keep it how it is.” Jin’s voice was not a command, nor was it a plea. It fell somewhere in-between the two.

Zeke nodded, solemn. After a beat of silence Zeke tapped the note again. “Pretty sure he wants a tactical assessment. Ask a couple of old questions. I’ll go tell him history’s taking a nap, shall I.”

Jin was looking at a spot on the ground. It was Malos who answered, “Yeah.” Mikhail closed the distance between himself and Jin. Millie cooed, “Jin?”

Their Driver’s voice snapped Jin out of the past. Refocusing on now, Jin turned towards Millie. When the little girl held out her arms, neither Mikhail nor Jin objected. In short order Millie was in Jin’s arms, giving Jin as big a hug as her small arms could manage.

 _Lethal cute disrupter of angst,_ Mikhail had called her. Watching the tension gradually ease out of Jin, Patroka found herself agreeing. That toddler was bound and determined to make sure all of them were alright. Which – fair was fair. Patroka was reasonably certain all of Torna was bound and determined to make sure Millie was and remained alright herself.

“Right then. Any of you been to Theseior before?” Zeke inquired. When none of Torna answered affirmative – truthfully or not, Patroka wasn’t sure. Locations tended to blend together after a couple of centuries – Zeke turned to his companions. “Fuzzy ears, you mind doing the honors of showing them ‘round? Give me a couple of hours to get the old man to back off before you take ‘em to the Theoscalida Palace.”

Nia shrugged, “Might as well,” and moved to take point.

“We’re staying at the palace?” Akhos inquired.

“Everybody directly involved in this upcoming hullabaloo is staying at the palace, _especially_ the Aegises. Don’t want anyone getting funny ideas about how just because none of the Aegis Blades are directly affiliated with any one country they’re of lesser status or whatnot. Like or not, the Architect’s Master Blades are powers in their own rights. Powers better off left to their own devices. Amalthus tried to leverage an Aegis for his own gain. Look where that got him!” Zeke scoffed.

Malos crossed his arms loosely over his chest. “You think that kind of political bullshit is going to work?”

“Damn well hope it does. Its the best bloody idea Mòrag and me have got,” Zeke confessed. After a beat to let that bombshell settle, Zeke declared, “Well! Pandy and me are off to harangue the old man. See you at the big supper tonight if I don’t see you before!”

“Toodles!” Pandoria added with a chipper wave.

“Big supper?” Malos repeated.

Rolling her eyes, Nia hissed the word, “ _Politics_ ,” the same way Patroka would bring up Indoline monks. Giving her ear a good flick, Nia brought herself back to the here and now. “Right. Well. Since we’ve got a couple o’ hours to kill, anybody have any special requests?”

“Salvage shop!” Tora immediately chimed. “Want check if new parts for Poppi!”

“The black market is as good a place as any to start the grand tour, I suppose,” Nia agreed.

“I do wonder if it has shrunk any since our last visit,” Dromarch mused.

...right. Tantal was the kingdom with the backwards economics making the black market their _actual_ market. Patroka automatically reassessed the threat potential as they proceeded forward. Millie probably wouldn’t want to be put down by Jin for a good long while. Markets being markets, irregardless of alignment, letting her down on her own two –

Malos moved.

The action was silk smooth. He _had_ been in the middle of taking a step. Then, before he’d put his foot down, Malos had his weapon drawn, parrying an ether green wave-shaped blade. As Patroka drew her own weapon and circled close to shield Jin – Millie was a wonderful kid, but she was also real hard to work around when weapons were needed – the identity of their abrupt attacker clicked.

“Well,” hissed Malos’s assailant, “at least a two year old hasn’t dulled your reflexes.”

“Sever you walking pair of lizard skin boots,” Malos chuckled amicably. Neither Blade put their weapons away.

“Not in the city you bloody idiots!” Nia hollered.

“Not _in_ the city yet, girly,” Sever noted. Malos’s own grin got rather sharp and pointy.

“Zenobia!” When Zenobia bent near her Driver, Jac’s voice dropped to an inaudible whisper.

“If you two don’t put your weapons up right now,” Nia warned, fingering Dromarch’s twin rings.

“Lay off, Nia,” Malos half suggested, half ordered. He leaned forward, pushing Sever a fraction of an inch back. “We won’t make too much of a mess. Right, Sever?”

“ _This_ is why I missed your ugly mug, Malos. You know how to have fun!” Sever snickered.

“ _Fight!_ ” Zenobia crowed.

What happened next happened too quickly for Patroka to process at once. Zenobia’s winds had jerked between Malos, Sever, and the rest of them in a tangible wall. The two were forced to break apart when the winds increased in intensity. Just as abruptly, Zenobia appeared next to the two. Grabbing Sever by his tail and hitting Malos with a clothesline slam of her forearm to his abdomen, Zenobia took off into the air, cackling the whole while. The wind Blade leaped over Theseior’s gates, wind and her own strength keeping Sever and Malos as her prisoners, and bound back down the bridge they had crossed less then ten minutes ago. The trio looked like stick figures when Zenobia finally stopped.

“Jin?” Millie’s quiet voice broke the preternatural silence caused by their departure. Patroka turned in time to catch the tail end of a question.

“Yes,” Jin confirmed, “that was a friend of Malos’s. Sever.”

Millie signed the shortcuts for, _smash play._

Jin hesitated a moment. Snow blasted up in a visible wave of wind and darkness. Sighing, Jin confirmed, “Yes. Malos is having smash play time.”

Patroka held in a snort of laughter by dint of will. A friendly spar as described by a toddler: Smash play. She was going to have to write that one down for blackmail in twenty years.

* * *

 

She did not know how to feel about Things. Ack called them _Crown Summit with intent to determine the extent of Core Crystal damage and/or impact of here-for-to unknown monsters from beyond Alrest's known boarders._ Jin called them _meetings with emperors, queens, and kings._ Pack called them _boring._ Mik'el called them _Special Important Things_.

Big did not like a lot of things about the Things. He did not like the Things were happening. He did not like what was talked about at the Things. He did not like he had to be there during the Things with Red Lady and Gold Lady and Red Lady's Boy. Big did not like thinking people would get hurt because of the Things.

Big did not like _she_ might be hurt because of the Things.

She did not know how the Things could hurt her. Things were nothing like the Bad. Big would not let her see or hear what went on in the Things. _Adult stupid stuff, brat_ , Big had said, adding with a gentle not-a-shove, _go bug Mik' or Akhos or Patroka._

At least Big had Jin. Jin could stop the Bad. Big had let her see Jin and Ack and Pack and Mik'el all beat up the Bad. They all helped Big make the Bad go away. So, she figured, if Jin could stop the Bad, Jin could help Big with the Things.

"I know a whole day without Malos is going to be dull," Mik'el sighed.

She agreed. Everything was better with Big.

Mik'el said, "But just because Malos and Jin aren't around doesn't mean we can take a vacation. We all gotta practice words. And," Mik'el pulled the pretty dragon box from her bag of stuffs, "we gotta do lessons."

Lessons were okay. Sometimes lessons made her mad. Sometimes lessons were fun. Big said lessons were important, even the ones that made her mad.

"Let's see here..." Mik'el opened the box. "How about numbers first?"

She wasn't surprised. Mik'el liked numbers and maths. Why, she didn't know. Big said it was because Mik'el liked making Stuffs. Engine-stuffs. Engine-stuffs needed lotsa maths.

"Akhos and I are going to go on reconnaissance," Pack said.

"Don't start a war," Mik'el laughed, giving Pack and Ack a wave bye-bye.

She got her fingers to spell, _Bye-bye have fun._

Pack ran her fingers through her hair in a goodbye pat. "We will. Be good for this airhead, alright?"

She giggled an okay. Pack had lots of funny other-names for Mik'el.

Ack checked the ouchie she had gotten when Big and his friend Hissie had their smash-play. Ack gave a hum; his fingers tickled the ouchie. It was a really tiny ouchie now. Big had made it go away really, _really_ fast. Ack put the bandage back 'round the ouchie. Ack said, "We'll be back after your nap time. You can show Patroka and I what all you learned today."

 _Okay!_ she tried to say. She had to use the finger-words.

Ack gave her a goodby poke, and then went with Pack out the door.

Mik'el put the book for maths lessons on the table so that she could get to it easy. She liked sitting in her Blades' laps whenever they let her. Mik'el knew it, so he helped her out of the fancy her-sized chair. Mik'el said, "Let's see... Its been a minute, so let's do a number review. Ready?"

She nodded.

Mik'el _looked_ at her.

She sighed. _Ready_ , she made her fingers spell.

"Then let's get going," Mik'el said happily, opening the maths book.

They worked together on her maths for a long time. A long, long time. Mik'el made maths fun.

A somebody she didn't know cooed, "D'awww."

Mik'el put an arm around her middle. His whole body went tense. His voice sounded light as he said, "I don't think we had an open invitation for visit–

Mik'el stopped talking mid-word. That was bad. What he said next sounded happy and said at the same time: "Cressidus?"

...wow. That person was bigger than Big!

"Didn't mean to scare ya, Mikhail," said the bigger than Big. "Heard from Sever you were going to be here so I thought... Thought I'd come see you. I missed you."

Mik'el swallowed. "...you remember?"

"I remember the important stuff. The good stuff. Not everythin', just not nothin'," said bigger than Big.

Mik'el swallowed again. His hold around her middle tightened a little, like he wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't sure, either. Being happy and sad at the same time was confusing.

"Mil'." She looked up at Mik'el. "This is Cressidus. He... He was my Blade, way back when."

She blinked, considering. So this person bigger than Big used to be Mik'el's Big? Big had said something bad had happened to Mik'el and everybody a long time ago. Had the bad thing been what made Bigger not Mik'el's Big any more? She would have to ask Big after the Things.

"Hi there," said Bigger in his big booming voice. "Nice to meet ya! Have you been a good Driver for Mikhail?"

She still wasn't quite sure what a Driver was, but she was being good. ...at least most of the time.

Bigger's laugh was a giant boom.

"Millie's a good kid," Mik'el said. "She's been giving me a hand with the whole ether thing." And Mik'el gave her a not-hug.

She made her fingers say, _Practice!_

"Yup. Practice," Mik'el agreed.

Bigger looked happy and sad. "Good. Blades gotta have good ether control."

"Kinda got that smacked upside my head," Mik'el chuckled. Mik'el nodded towards the lesson. "You wanna join in, Cressidus? We're learning math."

"Oooh, math. I'm not so good with little stuff like numbers. Mind if I do?" Bigger asked her.

 _Yes_! she tried to cheer. The word got all mushed.

"Okie-dokie," Bigger chuckled, pulling over a chair so he could look at the book, too.

Bigger was a lot like Mik'el. He was nice. Really... really... nice...

* * *

 

"Nap time," Mikhail murmured softly out of difference for his Driver's no longer conscious state.

"She's cute," Cressidus chuckled, voice as quiet as he could get it.

"She is," Mikhail agreed. Carefully standing, he walked Millie to the crib in the bedroom. Fancy digs these may be, they still only had the one bedroom for all of them. Three sets of bunk beds, sure; still all stuffed in one room. Patroka had not been amused.

Tucking his kiddo in, Mikhail made sure her stuffed volff was secure in her arms. Millie cooed in her dreams, giving her favorite toy a squeeze. Mumbles of what might have been words drifted up with a sigh. Mikhail waited a minute to be sure. Secure in the knowledge Millie was well and truly out, Mikhail headed back to the central room. Cressidus was watching him with one of the stupidest, goofiest smiles Mikhail had ever seen.

"What?" Mikhail asked, wary.

"It's _nice_ to see you happy," Cressidus gushed.

Mikhail felt a blush creeping up. "I was happy before!"

"You were miserable more than happy," Cressidus corrected, tone brokering no argument.

Jumping conversation tracks, Mikhail asked, "How've you been?"

"I've been alright. Busy. A lot of statesmanship is keeping quiet and listening for the things people _aren't_ saying. Niall is a good kid." Cressidus confided, "He needs so many hugs. So. Many. Hugs."

Mikhail snickered at the thought.

Cressidus continued, "Sever 's been real happy to be kept so busy. I think it's starting to annoy him a bit, though."

"We noticed," Mikhail deadpanned. "Sever jumped Malos at Thesior's main gates."

"Heard about that. Sounded like it was a pretty big scuffle. He remembers too, you know. Him and Perdido both do."

Mikhail scraped his jaw off the floor. "That's..."

Cressidus exaggerated a shrug. "Mythra and Pyra guess it's because they had to repair our Core Crystals. No real way of telling for sure. Sure is nice to remember, though, so I'm not complaining!"

"That's... Yeah. No complaints, either," Mikhail managed. Sitting next to his friend, Mikhail asked, "So what you been up to?"

Grinning, Cressidus launched into an answer with his usual over-the-top exuberance.

* * *

 

"Father fry it all. That was twelve hours of my life wasted. Where the fuck is my brat?"

"Malos!" his brat squeaked gleefully. A tiny missile of bouncing delight targeted Malos's kneecaps with reckless abandon.

Picking up his brat without breaking stride was practiced habit now. So too was letting her small arms wrap around his neck in a strangle hold hug. Breathing in the smell of shampoo and soap that meant Patroka had pinned Millie long enough for a bath, Malos felt a tight knot of tension ease out of his guts. It did not matter if every damn country in Alrest decided to have a rip-roaring case of egotistical stupidity. Malos could handle it. His brat _knew_ he could.

Having someone believe in him so completely was so – weird didn't describe it right. Came close enough.

Pulling back from the hug enough to look his brat in the eye, Malos demanded,"You give Mikhail and the others hell?"

His brat giggled, head-shake negative a reinforcement to the feelings of _silly Big_ echoing in Malos's Core Crystal.

 _Friend_ , her fingers danced.

"New friend?" Malos repeated, eyes narrowing.

"Cressidus dropped by," Mikhail answered. The kid was grinning, looking emotionally tired but content.

"Perdido mentioned that when he _ambushed us_ in the market," Patroka pouted.

"He caught sister dear looking at bath toys," Akhos filled in, grinning with prankster's glee.

"They were for Millie!" Patroka protested.

"Of course they were," Akhos chuckled maliciously.

"Did Perdido meet Millie at some point?" Malos asked before things could escalate to murder. Millie made an exaggerated squint with one eye. Malos decided, "Taking that as a yes."

"Did you know they remember us?" Mikhail asked.

More like _blurted in an excited bounce_. Malos was not one to split hairs. Especially not when a cold draft plucked his spine. Shock, Malos judged; not anger or some other emotion.

"Yeah. Mythra told me," Malos belatedly reported. "No way to tell if it'll stick after this lifetime. Hell. Trying to figure out _how_ is a crapshoot." Time to get off that topic real fast: "I take it they like the kid?"

"They're appalled by the lack of martial training the Emperor received until recently," Akhos reported with a hum. "How did Perdido put it?"

"It's like they want the kid to be offed," Patroka quoted.

Malos kept a scoff secured. He also kept his opinion to himself regarding politicians rigging it just so they _could_ quickly and easily dispose of an undesirable element in the most powerful seat in the empire. Next up would be who defined _undesirable._ Down that bundit hole lied headaches.

"And speaking of being offed." Akhos fiddled with his glasses. "Aside from your opinion regarding it being a waste of breath, how did the Summit go?"

Malos did a controlled fall into the closest unoccupied chair. His brat cooed her concern and gave him another hug. Rubbing soothing circles down her back, Malos summed up, "Uraya spent four hours shooting back and forth between Jin being there, _Rex_ being present, and Father forbid _an_ Aegis be present. All three was an unacceptable scandal."

“And its about to get worse.”

Watching Mikhail, Akhos, and Patroka scramble for weapons, balance, or both was far too entertaining. Jin was glaring at him for his snickering, Malos knew. Their reactions were too damn funny not to laugh at.

Mikhail recovered first: “Mythra! Hi! What the hell?”

Patroka jerked her thumb at Mikhail in a silent, _What idiot said_. Akhos managed to get himself untangled from his seat’s legs and on his feet. Jin shook his head minutely and proceeded to pass Malos so as to give Mythra the floor (so to speak), ruffling Millie’s hair as he went.

“Sorry,” Mythra grinned, clearly not sorry at all.

Akhos adjusted his skewed glasses. “What is about to get worse?”

Trust Akhos to jump straight to the point. The reminder wiped away Mythra’s mirth. The light element Aegis glumly reported, “There’s going to be a major dinner tonight.”

“Another one?” Mikhail inquired.

“Socializing is just as critical in politics as closed door meetings,” Mythra stated, arms crossed loosely. Malos’s sister did not like it any more than Malos did.

Jin took up the topic: “One point Queen Raqura demanded clarification on was the identity of Malos’s Driver.”

“Oh _damn_ ,” Patroka hissed.

“Yep,” Mythra confirmed.

“Rex couldn’t cover for us?” Akhos inquired. He held up a hand immediately and answered his own question, “Forget I asked. We _are_ talking about the patron saint of Truth. The boy couldn’t lie worth a damn unless Pyra’s life were depending on it. Perhaps not even then.”

“No _perhaps_ about it,” Mythra confirmed. She shrugged, offering a rueful, “Sorry.”

“How long is this dinner thing supposed to last?” Mikhail half demanded, half inquired.

Mythra looked like she was biting into a love lemon. “Hours.”

Malos kept a wince pinned, barely. Dinner would be at seventeen hundred hours. The brat tended to start sawing logs around eighteen thirty hours. Even if they tried to force the brat to take a nap now, an hour wouldn’t buy them much time, if any.

“Maybe Raqura will take one look at Millie and cancel the whole thing?” Mikhail tentatively suggested.

“Considering we’re all going,” Akhos looked at Jin; he continued at Jin’s nod affirmative, “she’ll just have to deal with one or two members of our party excusing ourselves for an early retirement. Malos taking Millie out to lay her down to bed, with at least one of us acting as an escort, and then – failing to return? It should go unnoticed long enough for the,” Akhos hesitated, “discussions, to draw to their natural end.”

“Won’t all of us showing up put a cramp in the talks?” Patroka asked, one hand on her cocked hip.

“Yes and no. On the one hand,” Mythra held up her right hand, “three more people at the table will put the seating arrangements all out of wack. Political ramifications, how dare Torna be alive, blah, blah, blah.” Mythra held her left hand up. “On the other hand, Zeke and Pandoria already planned to crash the party. Pyra’s trying to talk Nia and Dromarch into joining in as well to support,” Mythra put air quotes around the words, “Team Rex.”

Patroka slapped a palm to her face.

“And next you’ll say Tora and Poppi are joining the festivities,” Akhos sighed.

Mythra’s grin was sweet innocence, and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

Akhos adjusted his glasses. “I retract my earlier concerns regarding Millie’s presence. Between the crown prince and the Nopon, Raqura will be calling the dinner to a close herself before twenty one hundred hours.”

Malos’s smirk had teeth. All of a sudden, things were looking pretty damn interesting.

* * *

 

“A _toddler_?”

His spymaster kept any similar incredulity hidden behind a mask of professionalism. He brought forward from a prepared file a hastily drawn sketch.

In it, a larger man was attending to a minuscule girl. There were merely rough details of the man; no way to identify him as the Aegis aside from a purple cross icon were an artist might later draw in greater detail. It was the toddler who had been the focus of the sketch. Dark hair bobbing in loose curls along slim shoulders; amber gold eyes wide taking in everything around; a full smile of baby teeth; an outfit as terrestrial as her caretaker was divine. How much of the monotony of the image was a result of needful haste and how much were accurate was difficult to gauge. Cramped into one corner in economic scrawl, a working title: _Infant and Maelstrom_.

“All reports indicate the Aegis is fond of his Driver.” His spymaster brought forward a collated batch of paper; a report. “I have confirmed the Aegis of Indol is the reason why contact with the anti-Imperialists was so abruptly terminated.”

He gave the report little attention – until he reached the pictures. His spymaster would never allow works of fiction into his reports. Therefore, these photos were genuine.

“The Architect’s will incarnate,” he dared to breathe.

“Glory before our Lord,” intoned the spymaster.

“Whatever was those fools’ sin to invoke such wrath?” he wondered.

“They harmed the Lord Malos’s Driver,” his spymaster answered promptly.

“Then we must learn from their folly, and make all effort to avoid such error.” It was a trial to set aside proof of the glory of the Architect. “To insure the future of Indol, we must resume the cleansing. With the Architect’s Condemned roaming wild, Blades will be needed now more so than ever.”

No one need ever know it had been he who had orchestrated this most recent crisis. Surely the Architect smiled upon his resourcefulness.

“To such end, Indol must once more have a Driver of an Aegis. _The_ Driver of _the_ Aegis.”

“The infant’s age is advantageous,” his spymaster noted.

He concurred. “Young enough to have not yet learned the blasphemy this _brat_ and his false Aegis Blades spread to poison the faithful. Should we act now, and with care, Architect willing we shall have all the time needed to teach the Master Driver of their true duties. To the glory of the Architect, and to the greater glory of Indol.”

Yes… Yes, he could see it now. The Aegis returned home. A new Master Driver to light their way unto glory. How beautiful a vision it was.

“To such end,” his spymaster spoke softly, “I propose the following.”

He listened, and nodded, and concurred. Such would be most glorious, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy day after Gobble Day!


	21. Meeting

It has been a long time since she was aware. Here, in this Never Never place, there is no light, or sound, or touch. There is no smell or taste. There is nothing but an absence of reality. It is a frightening place. Though, now, long exposure has dulled its fright to commonplace. Here, she has drifted in oblivion.

But now there is something new.

It intrudes upon the nothingness with an abruptness which brings forth sound. There is a light for a flash of a moment. Enough light by which to see a figure as familiar to her as her own voice. There is the sound of footsteps. The sound of a worried voice calling out. The smell of snapping ether comes next, bringing with it the taste of smoke.

It all brings back a memory. A memory of a field aflame. Blades fighting against Titans modified by greed, gluttony, and hubris. She remembers – yes. An explosion separated her from her lady. Her lady...

"Lady Lora!"

The figure which seemed so familiar at first steps near enough for her to see. They are not familiar at all. There are some passing similarities: The eyes. The shape of their face. Their heart so open and glowing warm. There, the similarities end. This person is much too small to be Lady Lora. Their hair is the wrong color, and curls where it should be straight. Still, there is something there. Something which feels familiar.

"I'm sorry," she says, because that is what one says, "I thought you were someone else."

The small person shakes their head. "I thought you were Patroka. You're not my Pack. Have you seen Patroka? Or Akhos or Mikhail or Jin or Big?"

"Jin?" The name is familiar. It stirs familiar memories. "I know someone named Jin. I haven't seen him in a long time."

The small person sits down. Water pools in their eyes to the point it overflows. _Tears_ , she remembers. With the memory comes others: This small person is a child. Tears come when there is great joy – or sadness and pain.

"I'm lost," cries the child.

She must say something. She must. But what can she say? She does not remember what to do. It has been so long since she has been aware of anything, she is unsure.

"How did you get here?"

The child sniffles. "I tried to reach for Big. The – the mean men put a blanket on me. It stung. I couldn't reach Big! I fell and I fell and..." The child sniffles again. They take a deep lungful of air. "I want my Big!"

"The mean men?" she asks once the child's screams are spent.

The child thinks hard how best to explain. The child thinks so hard, the nothingness around them is filled up by memories. Voices at first.

A man says, "Something's wrong."

A woman next: "What are you on about?"

The man again: "I'm serious! Something's _wrong_. The ether isn't _flowing_. It's getting all," a frustrated huff, "knotted up!"

A different man speaks: "He's right. The ether flow has changed."

A third man speaks: "Oh, _shit_."

The sounds of doors shattering and stone splintering. Breaking glass crackles against stone and carpet. There is a scream, high and inhuman. There is a cry, low and like a wounded beast. The rest is drowned in a cacophony of yells and screams both human and not and sounds defying description.

The sounds of a war.

A lumbering shape mists into view. They seem humanoid, yet they are too large to be human. " _Don't you hurt her! She's an important person of a friend ah mine's!_ " declares the shade.

Three more shapes appear. All three are human shaped as well. They are human sized. Unlike the lumbering shape before, these three feel of malice. They are a threat. One shape flicks their hand. The two others attack the lumbering shape.

" _Cressidus!_ " shouts one of the male voices from earlier.

The remaining human sized shape has pulled a folded blanket from their cloths. They unfold it until it is the size of the child.

The lumbering shape shouts, " _No! I won't let you!_ " There is a scream; a grunt; a flash of something bright.

The blanket is wrapped around the child. All the shapes and sounds disappear at once.

The child says into the quiet, "I tried really hard to reach for Big. Cressidus is _nice_. He was getting hurt because of the mean men. He was gonna _die_." A sniffle breaks their train of words. "I tried to reach for my Big. I can _always_ reach for Big. But that blanket _hurt_."

"And now you are here," she finishes.

The child sniffles, "Now 'm here." The child shudders. "I think the bad men have me. I've never been without Big. I dunno what to do."

A memory sparks within her. A memory of Lady Lora. A memory of what Lady Lora would do in a situation such as this. The memory catches on the tinder of her soul. An ember brushed by wind, it stirs within her a fire of conviction. For the first time in too long to remember, she feels determination swell within her breast.

She will help this child. This child who reminds her of Lady Lora. She _will_ help them.

"Chin up," she directs.

The child sniffles but does as bid.

"It won't be easy," she warns, "but together, I think we can do it."

She gives the child her hand.

The child takes her hand.

Light seems to surge through her. The upper half of her four-point diamond shaped stone which had been black forever surges with new light. The light is... purple. How odd. She thinks, _Shouldn't it be blue?_ There is matching purple light from the child's chest. The stone the child holds is borrowed, not owned, and she does not question how she knows this. There is more light. More brilliant all-consuming light.

From a great and terrible distance away, a man who is not a man hums. "Not quite what I had in mind," he says to himself and to the stars around him.

Conjuring up a bowl filled with snacks, he sets to watching events unfold.

* * *

 

Theoscaldia Palace was on fire.

It had been, anyway. From the way the fire Blades weren't reacting, the only bits left were smoke and ash. Lots of that in the air. There was an awful lot of stone dust, too. Some of the protocol men whose bloodlines had been dedicated to preserving the palace were off in a quiet side room pickling their livers. It was going to take _decades_ to rebuild. Even then, it would never return to its former glory.

All that seemed pretty trivial against the immediate urgency. There were wounded to tend to. There were dead to honor.

And somewhere out there were a pack of bastards who needed their noses punched in.

Pandoria's hand sent a faint curl of electricity through his biceps. "My Prince?"

Raising his head, Zeke managed a grim smile. "I'm alright now, Pandy. Damned if that wasn't like going through the Spirit Crucible all bloody over again." Zeke gave the glyphs decorating his ancestral home a weary glare. "Who damn well knew that ether net-like malarkey was threaded through the whole damn palace?"

"Somebody did," Pandoria stated the obvious.

Zeke grunted, agreement and a want to move forward all in one. Whatever he had planned to say next got derailed by the arrival of Rex. Well – Rex being half carried in by Nia in her Blade form. All pretense of being an average human had been slapped aside the second the fighting had broke out in earnest. Zeke had already promised himself to backhand anyone who so much as whispered a foul word about fuzzy ears. He reaffirmed that promise, watching as she forced Rex to _sit down_ on a (mostly) intact bit of furniture so she could tend to his injuries.

"Pyra and Mythra," Rex began to protest.

"Are with Dromarch tending to who they can. The guards got hit the worst," Nia's ears flicked as she forced her emotions in check, "but some of the Blades got knocked 'round just as bad or worse. Yachink, for example! A crack like that shouldah done him in."

"Which is all the more reason I should," Rex tried to say.

"You'll be no help to your ladies if you fall flat on your face, chum," Zeke spoke up. Rex's eyes narrowed with stubbornness. "Pyra and Mythra need you _alright_. Not in their laps unconscious."

Releasing a growl of frustration, Rex capitulated. "I just... I hate this!"

"Join the club."

Zeke winced as the newcomer joined in. His fellow Blade Eater – ex-Blade Eater from what Rex had told him; and wasn't _that_ a mess to wrap one's head round – made a direct line for a semi padded flat surface. The blond then promptly landed face first with a groaned, "This _sucks_."

Given Mikhail looked like he had lost four rounds out of five with a wall of rotating cutlery, Zeke concurred.

"Cressidus alright?" Rex asked.

Flopping over onto his back, Mikhail reported, "Malos swore he would be. He," the blond swallowed roughly, "he almost cracked his Core with that stupid stunt."

"Protecting the people you love isn't stupid," Zeke corrected. At Mikhail's sharp glare, Zeke amended, "Its foolish. Crazy. Downright suicidal sometimes! But it's never. Ever. Stupid." Zeke wagged his finger, shushing Mikhail. "And don't try to say just because Millie wasn't his Driver the big lug shouldn't have bothered. You're his _chum_. That was enough of a reason for him."

Mikhail opened his mouth to say something. Thinking better of it, he gave a frustrated sigh.

"You stay put," Nia ordered Rex. Ears flicking with leashed annoyance, she turned on Mikhail. The blond winced but otherwise did not stir when Nia slapped healing water over the worst of his injuries. "Where's Jin and the others?" fuzzy ears wanted to know.

Mikhail sighed. "Pyra has Jin pinned. Patroka got knocked out by Mythra. Akhos got cleared to help Jac and Zenobia while Yachink's still recovering. Malos tossed me after Rex to get me out of his hair."

"You were fussing," Rex pointed out. He hastily added, "Not that anybody blames you! I'd've been a wreck if it were me."

"Correction," drawled an annoyed voice, "I've been banished on the pretense of assisting Nia insure you remain breathing."

"Wish that were a joke." Ears flat against her scalp, Nia hissed, "What the bloody 'ell happened to your ether flow?"

The newcomer, Akhos if Zeke had everybody right, adjusted his glasses. "Ah."

" _Ah?_ " Nia repeated pointedly.

"I'm _fine_ ," Mikhail grumbled.

"You're blocking off your ether flow again. Ergo, you are not fine," Akhos countered.

"You can block yer own flow?" Nia demanded. Mikhail's mulish grumbles was sufficient affirmative. "Bloody 'ell, Mik'!"

"A rather nasty trick Mikhail kept tucked up his sleeve. Necessary to survive Indol's machinations. Nasty nonetheless." Akhos adjusted his glasses. "Mikhail."

The blond growled, shoulders hunched.

"If Malos comes in here and sees you in this state, the palace is going to be collapsed around our ears. However will we explain the mess to Millie?" Akhos wondered.

Mentioning the girl seemed to loosen Mikhail's hunch. "You think...?"

" _I_ know," Nia cut in, a hiss threading her words. "You _will_ get your Driver back. You _will_ get to see Millie safe 'nd sound. You _will_ get to punch Cressidus for scaring the lot of us."

Akhos looked grimly amused as he interrupted with, "You'll have to wait your turn on that last one. The boy emperor looked fit to spit brass tacks last I saw. He's being a good Driver, shock of shocks."

Mikhail nodded with a mix of relief and a further loosening of tension.

"Like you'd expect anything less from Mòrag's little brother." Nia scoffed at the very notion.

"My thanks for the vote of confidence, Nia," the Special Inquisitor herself spoke up. A slight curl of a grin in conjunction with the scorch marks on her uniform gave the woman a dastardly appearance.

"Flamebringer!" Zeke bound to his feet, Pandoria moving in time with him to cover the pull of aching muscles. "What news from Mor Ardain?"

Mòrag gave Zeke a look that spelled out, _Nia is looking over you next, boyyo._ Zeke tried to hide a wince; a lost cause at this point. Mòrag proceeded on: "His Majesty, in accompaniment with Aegeaon, Perdido, and Cressidus, have relocated to our flagship. Uraya's contingent had likewise returned to their flagship. Sever believes he has the starts of a trail; Brighid is assisting." She tipped her cap to Akhos and Mikhail. "Driver Jac is in good health; Yachink will make a full recovery. Zenobia is far from in good cheer. Something about fights for life, limb, and sanity lacking all amusement."

Akhos blinked. Muttered, "That's new," under his breath.

"Pyra has granted Jin a clean bill of health with an injunction to keep Malos from, as she put it, _keeling over and making a mess of himself_. Mythra is keeping Pyra from doing likewise. We have one suspected perpetrator and no evidence. And far too many dead on all sides." Mòrag adjusted her gloves. "What have we next upon the agenda?"

"Us personally?" Zeke inquired. At Mòrag's hat tip, Zeke mused, "I suppose getting ourselves and supplies pulled together. I for one want to get a move on punching those blighters right where it hurts the second we know where they are."

"Finding them will be little trouble," Akhos prognosticated. "The moment they let Millie out of that ether net, we'll know _exactly_ where she is."

"Oh?" Zeke perked.

Akhos's grin had _teeth_.

Mòrag mused in a tone dull as dry ice, "I suppose given Malos granted Millie half his Core Crystal, locating her would indeed be," she paused to quirk a faint grin, "child's play."

Pandoria had to scrape Zeke’s jaw off the floor. Zeke squeaked, “He did _what_?!”

“This isn’t the first time Millie has been kidnapped,” Akhos stated, giving his glasses a prim readjustment.

Zeke’s eyes shot to Mòrag. The Flamebringer confirmed, “The rescue was on par with some of your more exuberant adventures.”

“Why am I always last to the best parties?” Zeke demanded of no one in particular.

Various palms met matching faces accompanied by weary sighs.

There was a knock on the door’s frame, the door itself having been a casualty of the skirmish. All eyes turned to the newcomer. Looked to be a Blade. Sever, if Zeke were to hazard a guess.

“Yes?” from Mòrag.

The lizard hissed, “Found something.”

“A clue?” Zeke demanded. Pandoria’s steps matched his as they headed for the Blade.

“Dunno. Its some place it shouldn’t be. Best person I know to ask about old crap is in here.” The tip of the lizard’s tail twitched.

Mikhail got to his feet.

If Sever was surprised to find he had a procession following him down the palace halls, he kept it to himself. Seeing the damage anew made Zeke want to drop kick the mastermind behind this travesty from a height equivalent to Elysium. He and the old man had their issues, but by the Architect, Zeke loved his homeland. He loved his people. Seeing them bleeding hurt, as bad as if Pandoria’s Core Crystal were being drug out of his chest.

Mòrag stepped aside ‘round two steps inside a spacious room to allow herself a look around and everyone else clear passage. “I recognize this place.”

“The Hall of Mystery,” Pandoria identified it.

“You know, that place where the old man tried to snuff Pyra,” Zeke reminded.

“Ah. Yes. It looks far different without the ether accelerator present,” Mòrag hummed.

Akhos was giving them both a look that wondered, _Dare I ask?_

Ether surged. For a blinding second Zeke could not see. Pandoria’s sword ignited at a touch of his will; blue flames rose from the far end of the Hall to likewise provide luminescence. Akhos seemed to bloody teleport across the Hall because the next thing Zeke knew, electric ether that wasn’t Pandy’s was batting at the black.

“Mikhail. Mikhail!” Akhos’s voice rose into a command.

The tide of ether receded and Zeke could see again. Akhos had his right arm wrapped around Mikhail’s shoulders, left hand squeezing Mikhail’s left shoulder. Mikhail himself had a grip on his weapons tight enough his arms were shaking. Getting close enough for a better look, Zeke could see Mikhail was looking past whatever his eyes saw, staring straight into the ether of time. In twenty seconds he was going to be out for the bloody count from shock if Zeke didn’t do something.

Zeke opened his mouth. Pandoria kept him from putting his foot in it by swallowing a scream.

“Brighid?” Mòrag managed.

Standing guard as far away from the… thing… as possible, the Jewel of Mor Ardain looked green as Gormotti grass. “Sever and I were tracing the ether net circuits to their endpoint. We discovered,” she eyed the humanoid thing, “the deceased. Here. Its point of entry appears to be there.”

Zeke proffered a whistle. It was a hole through the wall big enough to fit a man of the monster’s size. Rex put into words what Zeke was thinking: “You can see clear through into Tantal’s skies!”

“No mean feat,” Mòrag concurred. She gave the corpse an assessing disgusted look. “What was it, I wonder?”

Mikhail’s voice shook: “A Blade Eater.”

“What?” Nia hissed.

“But that,” Rex began to say.

Zeke’s tone cut across any further exclamations. “One in four,” he echoed. It felt closer to three years rather than three days since he had heard Mikhail say, “One in four turned into creatures that would fit right in at Morytha.”

Breath catching in a way Zeke intimately knew as a few seconds shy of terror fueled panic, Mikhail tore his eyes off the thing. Snow eyes as deep as Tantal’s glacier drifts, and just as old, met Zeke’s gaze. Mikhail swallowed. The nod was barley a chin tip.

“Mòrag. Brighid. Do me a damn favor. Put this poor bastard to rest,” Zeke requested.

Mòrag adjusted her cap. “Is such wise? We may need the corpse as evidence.”

“Shove off,” Zeke countered without heat. “You know Indol did this. We,” Zeke gestured to all present, “know Indol did this. Without any bloody proof, all our voices add up to is conjecture and hearsay. Least we can do is give what used to be a man a better end then glorified lunky.”

“Fair enough. Distasteful as it is, let us at least conduct a thorough search, first,” Mòrag ordained.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Rex noted.

“That makes two of us,” Pandy whimpered.

A look to Nia had fuzzy ears herding the both of them a safe distance away. Zeke did not bother trying to look a similar request to Akhos. Mikhail was not going to be moving until the past was gone back in flames where it belonged.

The temperature in the room dropped precipitously. Frosty’s voice demanded, “What is going on.”

Bracing himself, Zeke turned towards Jin, Patroka, and – heh; of course. All three Aegis Blades. The ladies headed straight for Rex. Malos was heading for Mikhail. Jin was waiting for an answer. A worried chuckle crept up the back of Zeke’s throat. This was going to _hurt…_

* * *

 

Waking up in a pretty place was just as scary as waking up in an ugly place. This place had a soft bed, soft floors, and walls with pretty decorations on them. It was still a bad place.

Big was going to come, she knew. Big and Ack would find her just as they had before. They'd bring Jin, and Pack, and Mik'el. They would come and take her home.

 _Until then you must do your best. I'll help as much as I can_ , said Nice Lady. Nice Lady's fingers brushing across her hair felt like wind through the trees. It reminded her of when she had gotten Big a present. Nice Lady said, _You must be just as brave now._

She would try. It was gonna be hard.

The door opened.

 _Stay still. Stay calm. Keep your breaths even,_ Nice Lady said. Nice Lady had a nice voice; it helped her keep from jumping up and chewing on the meanie's ankles. Jin had said she shouldn't chew on ankles because bad men went bad places that would taste pew pew. She was really, _really_ mad, though!

"Forgive me this disturbance, O Chosen One. I am bid by providence to attend to your ablutions, to your toiletries, and to your wardrobe. I humbly request you rise."

 _They've been sent by the person who's giving orders to help you take a bath, go potty, and get dressed. They want you to get out of bed now,_ Nice Lady explained.

Pfft. She bet they didn't have any bath toys like Pack got for her. She bet they were silly about going potty. And she _knew_ they wouldn't have cloths as nice as what Mik'el and Pack had picked!

"Please forgive my hubris. This humble one is required to see you to providence immediately."

 _If you don't get up, they'll_ make _you get up,_ Nice Lady warned.

Let 'em! She was really mad! She'd kick and punch and _scream_ and bite – and –!

 _Play pretend_ , suggested Nice Lady. _Let them think you'll be a good girl for them. When your friends come,_ then _you can give their ankles a big bite._

She didn't want to pretend!

 _Survive_ , Big's not-heard-voice murmured.

...oh, _fine_. She'd play pretend. For now.

She sat up in the too nice bed, kicking the blanket away as she did. The mean person was wearing a long flowing dress with sleeves so long their hands were hiding.

 _A traditional robe_ , Nice Lady corrected kindly. _That pattern... Its a pattern favored by the Indoline Praetorium._

The mean person had a sad face. Their hair was not the same white color as Jin's. Their skin was blue colored, and they had ears that ended in points, but not the same way Jac's did. They looked cold. There wasn't any warmth in their green eyes. None at all. They looked... broke. She didn't want to feel sorry for mean people. It was hard not to feel sorry for somebody like this mean person, though.

The sad-mean lifted up their arms so she could see their hands. Their nails were pointy. "Gratitude, O Chosen One."

They reached forward, and she let them pick her up. At least they were gentle about it.

As she had guessed, there were no bath toys. The sad-mean wasn't bad about potty time. The outfit sad-mean made her wear was prickly. It was the same kind of prickly she felt around Ack when Ack did something sparkly with lightning.

 _Static electricity. But why..._ Nice Lady gasped, _It's an ether net?!_

Ether net sounded like a bad thing.

 _It's a net that blocks ether. They don't want you to reach for any of your Blades,_ Nice Lady explained.

She tugged on the outfit. It was cut like the sad-mean person's outfit but much smaller. The sleeves weren't as long and it didn't flow the same way. It must have been big-ish so the ether net whatsits could work right. Maybe she could find a way to get out of it later. She'd gotten out of outfits before! (That had been to make Jin giggle. Hadn't quite worked...)

The sad-mean carried her down a long and twisty hallway that connected to lotsa other hallways. She tried to pay attention to the pictures, to see if she could find her way around. All the pictures looked the same to her.

 _They made it hard on purpose. They don't want people to leave,_ Nice Lady murmured soothingly. It helped her feel a little better.

The room sad-mean took her to was not too small and not too big. There were books on all the walls. A desk big enough for Mik'el's Bigger to sit comfy at was in the middle of the room. There was lights from the tops of the room. Maybe not sunlight; it was too pale. It was pretty shining through the colored glass. If she were here with Big, she'd want to know how it got made.

There was a mean man at the desk. They had a fancy hat to match their fancy robes.

 _The traditional vestments of the Praetor,_ Nice Lady said. Nice Lady sounded scared. Nice Lady said, _Be brave. We face a terrible foe._

She puckered her lips, frowning. She didn't know what _foe_ meant. She knew _terrible_. This was a bad, bad mean man. A Bad Man.

The Bad Man stood up from the desk. The Bad Man’s voice sounded slick, like grease or oil. They said, “Welcome, O Chosen One.” The Bad Man sounded happy.

She gave Bad Man an angry look.

“Please,” Bad Man bowed with a fancy flourish, “forgive the necessity. You were in grave danger. The false prophet has spread his blasphemy far and wide. He has even managed to corrupt two of the three Master Blades! I fear he may have corrupted the Praetor’s Aegis as well.”

She wanted to keep glaring at Bad Man the way Pack had shown her. She was too confused to keep it up. Bad Man had used a lot of big words in an even bigger sentence. A lot of it didn’t make sense, especially the part where it sounded like Bad Man was saying she had been in danger. She had been with Big! Big got her applesauce, and let her nap on him, and helped her with words, and took care of her. Big took care of everybody! There wasn’t any place safer anywhere!

“I realize you must be very confused, given both your age and the abruptness upon which you were called away. Allow me, if you please, to explain.” Bad Man gestured to a her-sized chair in front of the very big desk. The sad-mean put her in the chair. Then sad-mean went away as Bad Man sat back down. “I have here a book. I believe you will find it most educational.”

The Bad Man put a large book in front of her. It was a picture book. It had a pretty cover on it: A picture of a tree bigger than any she’d seen. Bigger, even, than the trees near Jac’s house. The Bad Man opened the book. There was a picture of a man who looked a lot like the Bad Man, but older, with whiter hair, and a smile that made her itchy.

“This is the holy history of Indol’s greatest Praetor. The Praetor chosen by the Architect himself. This is the tale,” the Bad Man turned the page, “of the Aegis Malos.”

 _Oh dear,_ worried Nice Lady.

She liked the picture of Big. It was pretty, even if Big looked extra no-nap grouchy. She didn’t like the picture of Big being in a book the Bad Man liked. She hoped Big would come soon, for she did not like this. Not one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be fair to Millie, its not like she can actively participate in kidnap avoidance. She is only two.
> 
> For all those who were asking about Haze: Insert Author's Evil Grin Here.


	22. The First Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear plotbunnies: Why does chaos show up for a guest appearance?
> 
> AKA: The chapter that’s 90% Millie’s POV. And also a massive plot dump!

Eyes closed, hand hovering over his Core Crystal, Malos tried to reach and _reach_ for his brat. Just as it had been twenty hours ago, all Malos could feel was a gentle tugging in a south-easterly direction. There were no half-felt visions this time. Just a continued tugging.

"Mil' really, _really_ wants us to haul our asses," Mikhail murmured.

Looking out the corner of his right eye, Malos saw Mikhail had both hands braced on the waist high battlement wall that stood between watchmen and a long drop down. The Blade Eater turned Blade was glaring in the same direction Malos could feel his brat in. Next to Mik' was Patroka, arms crossed loosely over her chest and hip resting against the battlement, attention allegedly on the horizon. A step down from her, Akhos was polishing his glasses.

"She does," Jin concurred, voice near as silent as his footsteps on the snow. Malos did not need to look to see Jin had moved to stand at his left. The air got noticeably colder with Jin's arrival.

"I wonder if her abilities regarding ether links, manipulation thereof, stems from her lack of verbal communication," Akhos pondered. "Can't talk? Yank on us instead. Rudimentary, but effective."

"Lora was able to do something similar," Jin noted.

"So Millie's got skills when it comes to ether manipulation. Whatever." Patroka flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "When are we going to grab a ship and _go_? Infiltrate and exfiltrate missions are nothing new."

"Missions where we keep the casualties minimum are outside our previous scope," Jin countered tactfully.

"Do we have to keep the body count down? They attacked the capital of an independent kingdom; attempted to assassinate three heads of state. A lethal counter-assault is justified," Patroka parried.

"Us going ourselves would save the aforementioned heads of state time, money, and further loss of trained combat personnel. Really, they would _thank us_ for taking on such an onerous task, not lecture us," Akhos added to Patroka's rebuttal. His eyes narrowed in the direction where the aforementioned politicos were cloistered in conference.

"How much death do we want Millie to see?" Jin asked.

Patroka and Akhos weren't the only ones who squirmed. Mikhail's fingers clenched against stone. Malos felt a distinct want to break something, himself. Father had to be laughing his ass off within the ether. The fastest way to get Malos to be a goodie-goodie had been to toss a toddler at him. _Oh no, can't kill that; need to be good for the baby_. Joke of the damn century.

Akhos quit polishing his glasses. "Given there's been no change since her kidnapping, I presume they have her locked down behind ether nets. Quite possibly they're keep her in a cell modified to act as a large scale ether net."

"How long can they keep her pinned like that before she gets hurt?" Mikhail asked.

"Weeks, easily," Akhos hummed.

"Exactly how sure are we that they're not hurting her?" Patroka demanded.

Malos scoffed, "Pretty damn sure. She's got half my Core Crystal, remember? Any injury she takes, I take, ether nets and distance be damned."

Mikhail startled. "Same in reverse?"

"Yeah."

Mikhail slapped stone to vent his frustration. "I thought that cut was because I screwed up watching her!"

Cut? What cut? ...oh. The one from Malos's spar with Sever. Malos shrugged, sort of apologetic. "Sorry, kid. That one was on me."

Mikhail cursed under his breath. It was Patroka who noted: "That is cheating. I can't punch you in the face without Millie feeling it!"

"Bruises, broken bones, and injured organs, she gets echoes. Cuts, burns, stuff like that, carries over one-to-one," Malos clarified.

"Stabbed through the heart?" Akhos inquired.

"If it's terminal to one of us, it's terminal to both of us," Malos confirmed.

Akhos nodded, adjusting his glasses. "That does not change the fact we need to extract our Driver from an untenable situation promptly. I'd say it increases the priority, wouldn't you?"

"Knocking humans unconscious instead of killing is tricky but doable. We'll need additional intel to pull it off, which we can't get sitting on our asses." Patroka looked at Malos and Jin. "When do we move?"

"Too bad we don't have the Monoceros," Mikhail sighed. Standing to his full height, Mikhail added his look to Patroka's and Akhos's.

Akhos noted, "We can't borrow a boat from anyone here, as much as it pains me to say it. We _do_ have to work with these people, later, if only to avoid them more effectively."

"Well. Suppose it's fortunate mercs have their own boats, eh?"

Whatever joviality was in Rex's tone was forced, making the boy's voice a pale echo of itself. Pyra and Mythra were both with him, one Aegis at either shoulder, resplendent honor guards and shoulders to cry on all in one. Further back behind Rex, Pyra, and Mytha were Tora, Poppi, Nia, and Dromarch. The foursome were half hiding behind the stone arch that served as doorway between the battlements and the palace. Half hiding behind them was a smudge of crimson feathers: Roc.

"You got a boat?" Malos asked without gruffness.

"We got a boat," Mythra confirmed.

"There's a catch," Rex half warned, half joked.

Malos looked the question to Jin. The answer was immediate without hesitation. Nodding in turn, Malos looked Rex in the eye. "We don't plan to be neat. We do plan to try and keep the body count to a minimum. Brat's seen enough blood already."

"If more of those," Rex paused. Pointedly not looking at Mikhail, Rex rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry. I can't call 'em Blade Eaters. They're not. Not really."

"Modern guldos?" Pyra tentatively offered.

"Gorts," Mikhail suggested.

Jin looked torn between horror at the suggestion and surprise at his own grimly amused snicker. A second to recover and Jin vetoed the idea: "He'd enjoy being remembered that way."

Mikhail shuddered, "Too true."

"Modern guldos until someone comes up with a more appropriate moniker," Mythra declared. She added a look at Jin and Mikhail which said, _We need to talk about whatever that was._

Malos made a mental note to be in on that conversation. Anybody whose name came up twice in conjunction with Mikhail's past _and_ that ticked Jin off? Needed to be rooted out, confirmed dead, and their remains disintegrated via Malos's power. Preferably immediately.

Rex nodded. He resumed: "If more of those modern guldo things show, being messy is going to be preferred. Probably the only way to survive 'em. How d'ya feel about wrecking laboratories?"

"I'm in," Mikhail volunteered immediately.

"It will make for a sufficient distraction," Jin allowed.

Patroka suggested, "Two teams. Malos, Jin, Akhos, and Poppi plus her Nopon tag-along head for Millie. The rest of us find the lab and blow it to hell. We'll have an emphasis on blowing shit up."

"Poppi's ether furnace being able to circumvent ether nets is not common knowledge." Mythra folded her arms loosely around her, eyes glinting with sharp humor. "Which means either Patroka just confessed to paying attention, or confessed to liking Poppi."

"I don't _like_ anybody," Patroka protested.

"Millie," Mikhail countered.

"Special Driver exemption," Patroka riposted. She growled before Mikhail could stuff his foot in his mouth, "And I admit I _was_ impressed with Poppi's capabilities. She's ten times more capable then those automated mass produced tin cans you designed, Mik'."

Mikhail chuckled, "Duh. The mass produced artificial Blades were meant to be cannon fodder. Poppi is a work of art. Major difference."

"Whatever!" Patroka fumed, tossing back her hair once more. "Can we just – just get this excuse for a rescue _going_ now?"

"If you've already got whatever you think you need ready to go, we've got a ship prepped." Rex hesitated. " _Roc_ has the ship prepped, technically. Actually, it's a loaner, from Zeke, except if anybody asks later we pirated it, a'right? Tantal can't officially be seen as giving support any which way. 'Least not yet."

" _Politics_ ," Malos groaned.

"At least with politics, the screaming is sort of contained?" Pyra submitted.

A beat of silence was broken by Malos's sigh.

* * *

 

No longer dressed up in the stupid prickly dress, she laid in the too soft bed and pouted. They did not have good tasting applesauce. They had something _like_ applesauce, but it tasted blech. The rest of the food was just okay. Nothing tasted as bad as crackers, but nothing tasted as good as what Mik'el or Ack or Red Lady could cook. Thinking about how everything was different made her tummy hurt.

 _Homesickness_ , Nice Lady murmured.

Yes. She wanted to go _home_. Big was coming. Everyone was coming. She wished they'd come faster. The longer she stayed here, the less she liked it. The Bad Man lied lots. She had met him one... two... three... five... No. Five didn't come after three. What came after three? One... two... three... four...?

Nice Lady giggled, _That's right._

Four came after three! She had seen Bad Man four times! She remembered her numbers and _that_ was good. Seeing Bad Man more than one – that was _not_ fun. Bad Man scared her. Bad Man had nice pictures of Big, but _why_ did he have them?

 _He wants your friend for something,_ Nice Lady worried.

That was bad. If Bad Man had a trap to catch Big, and she was the bait, then...

Big wasn't coming alone. Everyone was coming with Big. Big was so strong and everybody together could beat the Bads so... so... So it didn't matter. Bad Man could set all the traps he wanted. Big would beat all the traps. Big could never loose especially with everyone.

 _I do not think the Praetor wished you only for bait,_ Nice Lady hummed.

She frowned. She was just a brat. What could Bad Man want her for?

 _I do not know, but I fear it means naught but ill,_ Nice Lady worried.

She tossed the cover over her head. She wanted to go _home_.

The door opened.

She peaked out from under the cover. It was not the sad-mean who walked in the door. It was Bad Man.

"Forgive me this untimely interruption, O Chosen One. The blasphemer is on his way. I have need of your power to prepare for his arrival," the Bad Man said all fancy like.

She curled up in the cover with intent to stay put. She didn't know what he was talking about. She didn't need to. The Bad Man was bigger than her, and mean, and _bad_. She did not want to help him at all.

The Bad Man picked her up. She screamed and fussed but the Bad Man did not put her down. He kept saying, "Forgive me this necessity. You are needed for the greater glory of the Architect."

The Bad Man walked out of the room.

It felt like all colors of all the wax sticks got put right in front of her. Things got _bright_. And she could hear Big's not-voice calling loud and clear, _Brat!_

Everybody else's not-voices all cheered, _We're coming!_ Their not-voices weren't as clear as Big's but she could still hear them. Ack and Jin and Pack and Mik'el. They were all coming with Big.

"Taking her outside the ether net," said one of the mean men to the Bad Man.

"A necessity. The purification cannot occur within the bounds of an ether net, and the Aegis will find his Chosen regardless."

"If she cannot preform the ritual?"

"She is the true Aegis's Chosen. To be unable to do the cleansing would be impossible."

 _Oh dear,_ worried Nice Lady.

Big's not-voice got worried sounding.

 _I have no idea if you can hear me, whoever you are, but you must hurry!_ Nice Lady shouted at Big. _They're talking about the cleansing protocol Indol instituted for Core Crystals. Doing it forces data out of the Core, damaging them in the process. That damage can cause a feedback loop which can injure or kill more-so than average._

Big's not-voice rumbled, thinking about when Jac's Zenny had been napping as a stone. Big thought about all the other napping sparklies who also had ouchies.

She thought very hard about what Nice Lady and Big were saying. It sounded like the big problem Big worried about was caused by the Bad Man. The Bad Man said he needed _her_ to do the bad thing that made ouchies in the sleeping stones. Could the bad thing be turned upside-down to fix the ouchies?

Could she help Big?

Nice Lady said, _It's much too dangerous, young lady!_

Big's not-voice shouted loud, _Stay safe!_

But. But but. Bad Man was going to make her do the bad thing, or at least _try_ and make her. If the bad thing was dangerous, then _not_ doing it was dangerous as doing whatever the bad thing was. So if. So if she could make the bad thing _fix_ what it made bad, then... then... Then that'd be good and she'd stay safe and everybody could be happy! Even better, Bad Man would not get what he wanted. Big and everybody would come and beat the Bad Man and the meanies like they did before and the bad thing would be fixed.

 _Oh dear,_ worried Nice Lady. Big's not-voice got fuzzy and everybody else's not-voices got worried.

They were coming. She decided to fix the bad thing while she waited for them to come beat the Bad Man. She could help Big and stay safe all at the same time! Yes. Yes, she liked the idea lots.

 _That is not a good idea, brat!_ Big's not-voice seemed to bellow.

It was too a good idea! She'd show Big she could be a big girl and make things better just like Big!

Big's not-voice got wavy and distant. Big wasn't being taken away. He was just so worried. Well. She'd show Big he didn't have to worry.

...of course maybe she was wrong. The room Bad Man took her to was big, big, _big_. It was scary big. The walls were all white and gold, and the floor was more white and gold, and the top of the room was so high up she couldn't see it.

Bad Man set her down in a circle. Farther than she could throw, there were lots of sparklies. They were shaped the same way Ack and Jin and Pack and Mik'el's sparklies had looked. Then – then those musta been sleeping stones!

 _Core Crystals,_ Nice Lady said.

The Bad Man held out his arms and bowed. How voice boomed in the big room, "O Chosen One. I beseech you. Purify these tainted Cores so that they may resonate and wake with the faithful."

She looked at Bad Man. If he wanted her to do something, he had to say _how_. She was Big's brat, not Big.

"According to his memoir, Praetor Amalthus would pray to the Architect for the Cores to be cleansed," the Bad Man said like it was an explanation.

Hadn't Jin said something to Jac about how praying was just another way of thinking really hard? So... So maybe if she thought _really hard_ about wanting to fix the bad thing…

_**Millie!** _

Everything went night-night.

* * *

 

Things got lighter a little at a time. She was still in the big room. Now, though, there was a big man. The big man was dressed like the Bad Man. The big man was bigger than Big; he was bigger than Bigger. He was so big he seemed to fill the whole big room. Everywhere around the big man was dark with shadows that bubbled.

"Young lady!"

Nice Lady was kneeling next to her. Both her arms wrapped protectively around her smaller body as Nice Lady tried to shield her from the big man. Nice Lady looked funny; kind of see through, like not all of Nice Lady was _here_. Here was a scary place where she could not hear Big or anyone.

" **Ah. Fan la Norn. You return once more to my side** ," rumbled the big man in a voice as big as he was.

"That is not my name!" Nice Lady tried to shout, voice cracking in fear. Nice Lady shook with fear, holding tight to her.

Nice Lady was scared of the very big man. But even though Nice Lady was scared, Nice Lady tried to keep her safe. She wished she knew the word for that. Ack would. Ack would know what to say, and Jin would know what to do, and Pack wouldn't be afraid of anything, and Mik'el would beat the scary with a smile, and Big would beat away anything bad. Nice Lady was a lot like everybody, just without everybody it was hard not to be scared.

" **Is it not?** " the big man kaboomed. He folded his arms behind his back. " **Tell me, Fan la Norn, what** _is_ **your name if it is not the name** _I_ **gave you?** "

"You took my name!"

" **I** _saved_ **you!** " The big man got bigger and the darkness got darker. " **I plucked you from anonymity! I raised you to greater heights then any mortal could obtain! I made you a goddess among men! I, the Chosen of the Architect, made you truly immortal!** "

"You're mad," Nice Lady shivered.

She did not like Nice Lady being scared. She did not know what to do, but she knew she had to stop the big man from being mean. What would Big do?

Gathering herself up tall, she shouted as loud as she could, " _Hey!_ "

The big man startled. Nice Lady blinked, staring at her.

She said loud and clear, "No! You be nice to Nice Lady! Or else!"

"Young lady," Nice Lady whimpered.

The big man leaned forward and sort of squinted. " **Who, or what, are you?** "

"Big's brat," she answered promptly and truthfully. The middle half of Big's Crystal felt warmer.

The big man leaned away. " **I see. I see!** " He began to laugh in booming chuckles. " **Once again, Rhodentris proves himself an incapable buffoon. He kidnaps my successor to work the cleansing system instead of reading the manual! It does not take a** _Master_ **Driver to work the machine. That would be far too limiting in the event of my untimely demise. All it takes is a Driver. That short sighted pious fool has doomed himself and what glory remains in my fair country.** "

"Machine...?" she wondered.

The big man stroked his pointy beard. " **It's really quite ingenious, if I may say. It allows a single Driver to form a temporary resonance with dozens of Core Crystals simultaneously. Once the temporary link is established, the machine withdraws anywhere from forty to eighty percent of the data out of the Core Crystal. The temporary resonance is then severed, and the emptied Crystal, now hungry for more knowledge, eagerly bonds with a new Driver.**

 **“** **Or,** " the big man's grin was pointy, " **it does not. Creating and then severing a temporary ether link causes all sorts of small side-effects. Given enough time, those small effects pile up. Over the past three hundred years, fatal reactions to failed Driver resonances have gone up. Not enough for a mortal to notice, no. But to a divine, it is a clear bellow! There is** _no more knowledge_ **to be had in Alrest! It's time has, at long last, reached its end.** "

"That's a lie!" shouted Nice Lady. "That's the same lie you've filled every Core Crystal with! _You_ wanted to die! _You_ wanted everyone to die _with_ you! You were miserable, so you made sure _everyone_ would be just as miserable!"

The big man stood to his full height. " **Insolent** _witch_!"

Darkness _moved_ in a way like Big's but worse and meaner and scary. It moved like the Bad. Nice Lady whimpered and curled around her to try and protect her from the bad things.

Wind snapped down the bad things before they could touch her or Nice Lady.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?" rumbled a gruff voice.

There was a man who looked as see-through as Nice Lady. He was about Big's size, except round and stocky in the middle. There was an X in the middle of his face, too. He was a funny man: He had no feet.

" **You dare!** " boomed the big man.

The nice big man walked forward. There were two sticks in his hands, the ends of which had curved sharp bits that glowed.

"Damn straight I dare." The nice big man pointed one of his sharp sticks at the big man. "Didn't get to meet you proper m'self. Your pet trinket put paid to me 'fore I had the pleasure. Got to watch the kiddo make mince meat out of yah. Was a good ol' scrap. You got every ounce of pain you deserved."

The big man puffed up so he looked even bigger. Ropes of dark moved like Bad's wiggly thinggies.

The nice big man kept walking with purpose. "One thing bugged me mighty after the dust settled. Old boy Jin, he got to meet his maker. But you. You fizzled out to no-where. Kept calling for yer mum as you dropped outta sight – and she was _there_ , boy. Waitin'. You _didn't see 'er._ Now why's that, you reckon?"

" **You know nothing!** "

The big man shivered as he spoke. Maybe she was so scared she was going silly, but she thought... She thought she saw a little kid just a little bigger than her standing where the big man was. Nice Lady and the nice big man were staring at the bad big man, so she couldn’t ask them if they’d saw it.

The nice big man stopped so that he stood between Nice Lady, herself, and the big man. “I think I have a couple ah things worked out. Part of it is the reason we’re even havin’ this conversation. Me old boy Roc may have forgotten me up here,” the nice big man tapped his head with his right finger, careful not to poke himself with the sharp stick, “but he never forgot me in here.” He poked his chest. “ _Blade and Driver are one, body and soul_. It ain’t just an old Tornan proverb. Every time a Driver resonates with a Blade, the ether links their souls. Even a temporary resonance still makes a link.

“How many Cores did you play vampire to? Hundreds? Hundreds of thousands? Each and every one formed a link. Now, way I figure it, you could still move on ta where yer mum is waiting. ‘cept you’re so full of old hate, you made those links into a chain. So long as that chain exists – so long as _you_ exist, here, as you are – Core Crystals won’t be able to resonate proper with Drivers. Blades won’t be able to move on to their next mortal lives. Short of an Aegis coming in and fixin’ things the hard way, they won’t be able to heal from the cracks your data drain put in ‘em.”

“ **And why should I** _ **move on**_ **? Why should any Blade** _ **move on**_ **? Are we all not better off staying as we are?** ”

“That ain’t yer call to make,” the nice big man replied. He sounded sad.

“ **I am the first Master Driver! I am the worthy one chose by the Architect! I have** _ **all rights!**_ ”

The big man puffed himself up even bigger. The darkness around him got so thick it turned into actual things. The things were just like the Bad which had come and –

“You’d best get the lass clear, sheila,” the nice big man growled. He had hunkered down, his sharp sticks ready to start slashing at the bad big man’s Bad things.

Nice Lady swallowed. Very, very softly, Nice Lady said, “No.”

“ **Fan** **l** **a Norn! You would attempt to defy** _ **me**_ **?** ”

Nice Lady gave her shoulder a squeeze. Shaking as she did so, Nice Lady stood tall. “In life, I could not defy you when you turned me against everything Lady Lora stood for. In death...”

Wind twisted into a staff with a pretty bell shaped green bow on top.

“In death – defy you I must!”

Wind wound up and _punched_ the big bad man. The darkness all kind of scatter _pooff_ ’d. The bad big man growled and tried to yank the darkness back to him.

“Run,” Nice Lady ordered.

 _Run_ , mommy had said. _Be safe_ , Big had said.

She ran.

She ran and she ran, and she kept running until –

There was, rather suddenly, no floor. It was all black. Black as far as she could see. The black was speckled with prickles of light. It looked like somebody had taken the nighttime sky and made it so everything looked just like it. Down below her feet was a big blue ball with lots of white puffy spots.

“So many visitors today.”

She looked and saw – a half man? A man half eaten up by a big swirly hole. She stayed very still because it looked very scary.

The man said, “My apologies. I had no intention of frightening you. I tend to use this form so that I’m closer to my Father in some small way. He died a little over a year ago. Just a moment.”

Sparkles of light drift up around the man. The sparkles brighten enough that she had to blink. But when she does, the light was gone, and so is the man being eaten by the big black swirly hole. Instead there was a boy a little shorter than Red Lady’s boy. Their silver hair isn’t the same silver as Jin’s, and its short and flat, and their blue-green eyes are bright. They look normal with their white pants and black shirt and yellow and blue vest thinggy.

“All better?” asked the boy.

She nodded, because it is better a little. A boy is lots less scary than a man being eaten.

The boy giggled. “My name is Ontos. What’s yours?”

“Malos’s brat,” she answered because it was true.

The boy bent down with his hands on his knees so as to look her in the eye. “Malos’s brat isn’t a name, silly! Its a _what_. Though I did ask _what_ , so I suppose that’s fair… Alright!” He clapped his hands against his knees. “I’ll ask, _who_ are you?”

“Malos’s brat!” she giggled.

“Is that all you know yourself as?” asked the boy. When she nodded yes, the boy wondered, “But don’t you know? There’s much more to you than just being Malos’s Driver. Though,” he leaned forward squinting as he moved, “I suppose given your age, complex things like, _I am,_ are a bit too big for you. That’s fine, though.” He reached forward and patted her hair. “That’s just fine. Though… Why ever are you out here?”

She shuddered as she remembered the nice big man, and the scary big man, and the Nice Lady. She had run because Nice Lady had said to, and because Big had said – Big. She needed to find Big! She told the boy, “I’m looking for my Big! He’s the biggest bestest person in the whole world! I can always find Big but… but… But I got lost.”

“Yes you did. This place is far away from where you came from,” said the boy.

“Can you help me find Big?” she asked.

“No,” the boy shook his head, “I cannot. I can’t leave this place, and the one you search for is not here. But,” the boy held up a finger, “I can introduce you to someone who can help you find your friend. You have to call them by their name for them to help.”

The boy told her the person’s name.

She frowned, grumpy. “I can’t say that name!”

“Why not?”

“Its got words I dunno how to say! I know how to say Ack and I can almost say Akhos, and I can say Pack ‘cause its Ack with a “puh” but Patroka ’s too hard even though I try really hard! And Mikhail is hard, too, but I almost gots it! Jin would know how to say it. Jin makes everything easy; even the word that’s his name is easy! Big is Big and he can do _anything._ Big taught me how to say Malos! But I’m just Malos’s brat and words are hard. _That_ name ‘s got a word that’s _really hard_.” In her frustration, she plopped to her bottom and cried, “I want my Big!”

_Siren_

She sniffled. Big’s voice? Big’s voice from very far away--

A _big_ lady all covered in metal swooped down out of the sparkly stars. The big lady was as big as the bad man she’d run away from. But… But the big lady had a stone on her chest just like Big’s. She had wings, too! If the big lady had a stone on her chest like Big’s, and if she had wings that weren’t at all like the bad man’s shadows, then… Then she must not have been a bad lady.

“You can take me to my Big?” she asked.

The metal lady nodded.

“You can take me to everybody?”

The metal lady nodded again.

Everybody… She wanted to go home. She wanted her Big, and Ack, and Jin, and Pack, and Mik’el. Thinking about everybody reminded her of Nice Lady, who had tried to help her. Thinking about Nice Lady reminded her of the nice big man and the scary big man. Nice Lady needed help!

“Is something wrong?” asked the boy.

She asked, “What’s a successor?” The boy blinked at her. “The scary big bad man said I was his successor. I dunno what successor means.”

“Ah, yes. I saw that. I can see a lot of things from way out here,” the boy explained. “Successor means that a person has inherited a title or an object. The person you called the scary big bad man once had the title Master Driver of the Aegis.”

She thought hard about it. Big was an Aegis; Red Lady and Gold Lady and Red Lady’s boy had all said so. They all said she was Big’s Driver, which was a fancy sounding way of saying Big was hers and she was Big’s. It was a _title_.

...oh. She had to ask, “Was the big scary bad man Big’s?”

“He was. A long time ago,” said the boy. The boy looked sad as he said, “An even longer time ago, he was once a child, just like you.”

... _oh_. Then she… Then she really needed to help Nice Lady. But she also needed to get Big.

The big lady made of metal floated closer.

“I gotta go help Nice Lady,” she said.

The boy nodded, understanding. “If you run that way,” he pointed in a direction, “you’ll return to where they are fighting.”

She nodded. To the big lady made of metal, she asked, “Could you go get Big? Please? Nice Lady needs help _right now_ but Big needs to come _right now_ , too. There’s only one me so if we split up…!”

The big metal lady bowed. Then she fell, and fell, like a falling star, and vanished into the puffy whiteness of the big blue ball below.

She swallowed. “Millie.”

“Oh?” blinked the boy.

“Millie is the word mommy said was my name. Malos’s brat is the words Big gave me,” she explained.

“Millie, Malos’s brat,” repeated the boy. “I wish you luck.”

She ran.

She ran and she ran and she kept running. Her feet slapped hard against the hard floor of the giant room. She heard the Nice Lady yell to watch out. She heard the nice big man yell to stop.

She did stop – but _after_ she hugged the big bad man.

“ **Let go of me!** ” roared the big bad man.

“You need a _hug_ ,” she declared because he did. Because Big had been his once a long, long time ago. Which meant he had lost Big a long, long time ago. Thinking about how she would feel if she ever lost Big made her insides hurt and her eyes burn. Which meant – which meant the big bad man must have felt _awful_.

“Let go!” said the bad man in a much quieter voice.

She held on tight. The bad man needed a big, big, Big sized hug. If Big were here, he’d give the bad man a hug, too. ...maybe a punch first, because Big talked better with fists than with words. But Big would give him a hug _eventually_. She knew he would.

“ _let go!_ ” The bad man’s voice was lots quieter now. He also felt lots smaller, like a little kid a little bit bigger than her. He was also starting to cry. “ _I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go alone! I want my mommy!_ ”

“Yer mum’s waiting for you, kid,” said the nice big man.

“I don’t want to go alone,” said the bad man who was now a small bad kid.

“You don’t have to, lad. I’ve finished up the last of what was keeping me here. I’ll go with you – _if_ you give up what you stole.” When the bad kid sniffled, the nice big man said, “It isn’t yours to keep.”

The bad kid sniffled. She let go of the bad kid when he stepped back. The bad kid pulled a glowing shape out of his forehead. She wasn’t sure, but she thought it was a triangle shape. Maybe. She wasn’t very good with shapes.

“I’m not sorry I took it,” said the bad kid. He glared at it. Then he shoved it into her hands. “You take it. You took Malos, so you should take this.”

“This isn’t mine,” she said, because it wasn’t.

“Its mine!” said Nice Lady. She sounded scared and happy and sad all at the same time.

She walked away from the bad kid and walked over to Nice Lady. The glowing shape looked a lot like the glowing shape on Nice Lady’s chest. She gave Nice Lady back her glowing shape. It glowed brighter, and fit right with the shape on Nice Lady’s chest.

Oh. _That_ shape she knew. It was called a diamond. Diamonds were sideways squares, and she knew squares and circles.

“Come on, kid,” said the nice big man.

“Bye,” said the bad kid.

“G-Goodbye, Amalthus,” said Nice Lady.

“Bye, mister!”

“Its Vandham, kid. When you see Roc, tell the old blighter I said good luck!”

Things got very bright again. There was a loud ka- _boom_ when the nice big man and the bad kid disappeared. All the darkness that had been around the big bad man (who was now the vanished bad kid) twisted and snarled and lashed out. There was more light, and the darkness started fading, and the sleeping stones all started glowing _bright_. There was another big ka- _boom_ that made everything shake.

“Oh dear,” worried Nice Lady.

Oh! The metal lady was back. The metal lady must have told Big where to find her. Nice Lady picked her up and was saying, “The ether is all tangled up. I think its about to –”

The metal lady picked up her and Nice Lady. There was another really big _**kaboom!**_

Then they were outside in the sunshine. It was noisy… but also a nice place for a nap. So – she napped.


	23. The Second Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *checks date*
> 
> ...fudge it. Smash comes out in less than two days. This fic is done (holy crap its done) and the bunnies are going on vacation for Smash Day. Two chapters in the same day!
> 
> Welcome to the second half of the exposition dump.
> 
> (Note: If you see any weird italics errors, let me know. For some reason the format went all wonky during import. I think I fixed it all?)

Malos knew the exact second Millie was removed from the ether net. The exact _second_ the bright spark of life holding half his Core returned to its proper luminescence blinded Malos’s immediate surroundings. Its return knocked the wind from him; left him dizzy with, _Here! She’s here! My brat!_ Hands grabbing his arm to keep him from falling to his knees was an absent reality. Malos could _see_ his brat being carried by someone in a Praetor’s robes of office. They were walking down a hallway along with a nervous guard. There was someone else, too. Someone faint that was there but not _there_.

“They took Millie out of the net,” Akhos’s voice breathed.

“How fast can this ship move?” Patroka’s voice demanded.

“If we had more exact coordinates,” Pyra’s worried voice spoke up.

“I’ve got them. Don’t ask me _how_ ,” Mikhail’s voice shook.

“Malos,” Jin’s voice called.

Shaking and not giving a damn that he was, Malos forced himself to say, “I see her.”

“ _See_ her?” Jin echoed.

Malos gave an abbreviated explanation: “Aegis thing.” He had to _focus_. Who was with his brat? What were they talking about that had his brat upset? Did they want her for something more than bait?

A voice that was not Millie’s wavered. It was like listening through water, but Malos could hear: _you must hurry!_ – _cleansing protocol_ _–_ _forces data out of the Core, damaging_ _–_ _feedback loop which can injure or kill_ _–_

Nothing Malos did not already know based off his direct examination of Zenobia’s Core Crystal and Mythra’s own examination of other Cores.

His brat was thinking hard. Her determination was enough to nudge her fear aside. Something about… turning the process in reverse…?!

_“No!”_ Malos gasped, trying to reach and _reach_ for his brat.

Malos could feel his brat’s determination firm. Millie was determined to be a big girl and help her Big. That was fine. Really. But not like this. Father – she could get killed doing what Malos thought she was planning!

_That is not a good idea, brat!_

Millie’s determination firmed further. Malos could feel Millie decide she was going to help her Big no matter what. Malos saw the guy dressed up like a Praetor put Millie down in a chamber that was unfamiliar. It looked like it might have been the main hall of Indol’s central complex. The Praetor wanna be backed away. Through Millie’s eyes Malos could see dozens of Core Crystals laid out.

_Oh no. No… No!_

_“ **Millie!** ”_

The world around Millie went blinding. Malos felt his heart yanked out of his chest. Then his brat was… gone. Gone beyond where Malos could reach.

_No. **No.** My brat is not dead. She **can’t** be dead. Give me back my brat. Give me back my Driver! _ **Give me back Millie!**

Dark. Darker. Darkness. An endless void swallowing everything. His brat was somewhere within the void, lost. Gathering his will, Malos threw himself into the darkness, following the endless tug which was his link to his brat.

Starlight rolled out around him, adding speckles of light to the endless void. Beneath him was a familiar blue marble of a planet dotted with roiling clouds. Ahead was a familiar figure half eaten by a void. A figure which should have been dead well over a year by now.

“Hello, Logos.”

“What the hell,” Malos demanded.

The dead man chuckled, “That’s a rather rude thing to say.” The dead man looked Malos over. “You’re not dead again. You are emotionally distraught, but not to the point you’d leave your body without conscious direction.” The dead man snapped his fingers. “Oh! We’re at _that_ point in the story, aren’t we? I didn’t think we’d be here for another chapter.”

“You are not Father.”

“No, I’m not our Father. He’s – somewhere. Out there,” he gestured to the endless star speckled void.

“Our…?” The realization hit with the force of Jin’s fist. “Ontos.”

“You do know my name now! Excellent,” smiled the Third Aegis.

“What. The hell,” Malos repeated.

“I don’t have a body of my own. I never resonated with anyone living or otherwise. Not having a body is somewhat limiting; it means I can’t do as much as I might like. But, if I did have a body, I wouldn’t be able to use some of the tricks I picked up wandering through dimensions.”

Malos crossed his arms over his chest. “And one of those tricks is looking like dear old dad?”

“I never got a chance to talk to him. Not like you and Pneuma did. I thought, if I shared his form, it might give me a better insight into how he was. He died with so many regrets, Logos. I’ve tried to help resolve a few of them so he can rest in peace.”

Suspicion bit. “You’re the reason I’m alive.”

The genuine smile looked fucking weird. Probably because Malos could never imagine Father _smiling_. Ontos was saying, “I made a new Core Crystal for you, yes. Of course that was after you helped Pneuma with – oh. You wouldn’t remember that bit. Pneuma wouldn’t, either, since all that happened when you were both body-less. I helped Pneuma’s two selves split their Core Crystal, too, though the how was all Pneuma’s idea. She’s brilliant with metaphysical stuff. Always has been.”

“You helped Jin and the others, too,” Malos guessed.

“That took some time and some doing. Akhos and Patroka were both – well. Not eager, exactly. Akhos wanted to see if it could be done at all. Patroka didn’t want to be separated from Akhos again. Seeing how much her death affected Akhos really got to Patroka. Mikhail was terribly tricky to return. All the damage Amalthus had done to the poor kid’s body had damaged Mikhail to his soul. It took a lot of hard work to make a Core Crystal which would work properly given his dual nature. If Pneuma hadn’t helped, Mikhail would still be floating out here with me.

“Helping Jin was actually the hardest. Jin wanted to wait and see if...” Ontos paused. “Jin missed his true Driver deeply. I would have made her a Core Crystal, you know. So that Jin and she could be reunited right away. But that… wasn’t possible. A human soul doesn’t fit into a physical body the same way a Blade does.”

Malos stared at the apparition which wore Father’s face. At length he managed to sputter, “The fuck?”

“Metaphysics really isn’t your field, Logos. Your strengths are with tangible physics and logical reasoning.” Ontos snickered, “You’ve got a very dull imagination.”

Seeing Father giggle, even if it wasn’t Father doing the actual giggling, was damn weird. The weirdness was enough to shake Malos back on track.

“I need to find my brat.”

Ontos agreed: “Yes, you do. She’s in a terrible spot of –” Ontos held up a hand to keep Malos silent. “Oh dear. It seems she’s coming this way.”

She was. Malos could feel her.

“She won’t be able to see you or touch you like this. I’ll talk to her, don’t worry.”

“You’ll freak her the hell –” Malos started to warn.

His brat running in full panic shattered Malos’s voice. She was scared; so scared. And she was there. So close. All Malos had to do was reach out and… And he could not reach. Millie was there, but – not. Malos’s fingers closed around empty air when he tried to grab her arm.

“So many visitors today,” Ontos said.

His brat startled. Looking up at Ontos, she froze, visibly frightened. Malos felt the starts of a growl as he warned, “ _Ontos._ ”

“My apologies,” and Malos got the impression Ontos was apologizing as much to him as to Millie, “I had no intention of frightening you. I tend to use this form so that I’m closer to my Father in some small way. He died a little over a year ago. Just a moment.”

Ontos glowed with an appropriate amount of sparkles. Between one blink and the next, gone was the desiccated figure of Father. In its place was a boy shorter than Rex with platinum blond hair dressed like something out of a science fantasy book.

“All better?” Ontos asked. His voice was as different now as his new look. When Millie nodded affirmative, Ontos chuckled. “My name is Ontos. What’s yours?”

“Malos’s brat.”

...there was not something going gooey in Malos’s chest.

Ontos bent down, resting his hands on his knees to better look his brat in the eye. “Malos’s brat isn’t a name, silly! Its a what. Though I did ask what, so I suppose that’s fair… Alright!” He clapped his hands against his knees. “I’ll ask, _who_ are you?”

“Malos’s brat!” his brat cheered.

“Is that all you know yourself as?” asked Ontos. When Millie nodded yes, Ontos wondered, “But don’t you know? There’s much more to you than just being Malos’s Driver. Though,” he leaned forward squinting as he moved, “I suppose given your age, complex things like, _I am_ , are a bit too big for you. That’s fine, though.” He reached forward and patted her hair. “That’s just fine. Though… Why ever are you out here?”

Millie shuddered as though a cold wind had raced up her spine. “I’m looking for my Big! He’s the biggest bestest person in the whole world! I can always find Big but… but… But I got lost.”

“Yes you did. This place is far away from where you came from,” Ontos said sadly.

“Can you help me find Big?” Millie asked.

“No,” Ontos answered, “I cannot. I can’t leave this place, and the one you search for is not here.”

“What do you mean I’m not here?” Malos demanded.

“But,” Ontos gently shushed them both, “I can introduce you to someone who can help you find your friend. You have to call them by their name for them to help. The person who can help you is named _Siren_.”

Malos balked.

“I can’t say that name!” Millie protested.

“Why not?” asked Ontos reasonably.

“Its got words I dunno how to say! I know how to say Ack and I can almost say Akhos, and I can say Pack ‘cause its Ack with a “puh” but Patroka ’s too hard even though I try really hard! And Mikhail is hard, too, but I almost gots it! Jin would know how to say it. Jin makes everything easy; even the word that’s his name is easy! Big is Big and he can do _anything_. Big taught me how to say Malos! But I’m just Malos’s brat and words are hard. _That_ name ‘s got a word that’s really hard.” In her frustration, Millie collapsed. Malos felt his heart breaking as she sobbed, “I want my Big!”

“Are you serious, Ontos? About…?”

Ontos nodded minutely.

“But how? Mine was destroyed five hundred years ago! Mythra’s isn’t going to listen to me. I know you said you could fix Core Crystals, but –”

Ontos was smirking.

“You…” A smile tugged on Malos’s lips. “You son of a bitch.”

Ontos kept a giggle smothered.

Turning out towards the black – towards the rising moon – Malos reached and _reached_. _“Siren!”_

Millie’s tears broke off on a sniffle. Had she… heard him? Before Malos could ask aloud, Siren arrived in this place that was not a place. With Siren’s arrival the last of Millie’s frustrated tears were scattered. Getting to her feet, Millie stared at Siren with wide eyes.

“You can take me to my Big?” Millie asked.

“Do what she says,” Malos directed.

Siren answered his brat with a simple nod affirmative.

“You can take me to everybody?”

Another simple nod.

Millie hesitated. Malos could feel she was afraid. But, weirdly, he could feel Millie was not afraid of Siren. There was something else Millie was worrying about. Malos wanted to ask, “What is it?”

It was Ontos who had to ask, “Is something wrong?”

“What’s a successor?” Ontos and Malos both blinked, caught off guard by the non-sequitur. Millie explained, “The scary big bad man said I was his successor. I dunno what successor means.”

“What scary big bad man?” Malos pressed.

Ontos nodded as though he had a clue what the hell Millie was talking about. “Ah, yes. I saw that. I can see a lot of things from way out here. Successor means that a person has inherited a title or an object. The person you called the scary big bad man once had the title Master Driver of the Aegis.”

Malos’s eyes bugged. “ _Amalthus is fucking here?!_ ”

“Was the big scary bad man Big’s?” asked his brat with ignorant innocence.

“He was. A long time ago,” Ontos confirmed. “An even longer time ago, he was once a child, just like you.”

“Amalthus was never _mine_! And he was _never_ like Millie!” Malos exclaimed.

“I gotta go help Nice Lady,” Millie declared quietly.

“Who the hell is nice lady?!” Malos demanded. This not being heard shit _sucked_. It explained so much about why his brat threw temper tantrums.

Ontos nodded, understanding. “If you run that way,” he pointed in a direction, “you’ll return to where they are fighting.”

“Fighting?” Malos echoed. “Ontos, what the hell? Don’t point my brat towards a fight without me there to punch the bastards!”

His brat nodded, acknowledging Ontos’s directions. Millie asked of Siren, “Could you go get Big? Please? Nice Lady needs help _right now_ but Big needs to come _right now_ , too. There’s only one me so if we split up…!”

Siren acknowledged orders with a final simple nod. Before Malos could countermand those orders, Siren was in Alrest’s upper atmosphere.

His brat swallowed. “Millie.”

“Oh?”

“Millie is the word mommy said was my name. Malos’s brat is the words Big gave me,” Millie explained.

“Millie, Malos’s brat,” repeated Ontos. “I wish you luck.”

His brat ran. Before Malos could react, she had vanished.

“She’ll make it safely back to her body, Logos. I can at least insure that much.” Ontos paused; chuckled, “Though I should say _Lora_ will insure that much.”

“...what the hell,” Malos repeated for what felt like the fourth time.

“I’d explain in detail, but you’re out of time! Go,” Ontos commanded. “Get back to your body. Go on, shoo!”

Malos had enough time to repeat, “ _What the hell!_ ” Then he was sucked down – _yanked_ down by a force equal to gravity. Malos had a split second to realize impact was going to _hurt…_

The crash landing reminded Malos of when Siren had been blown to hell with him in it. Everything __hurt__ from his toes all the way up to his hair. It felt as though he should have been a walking pile of broken bones; like his body had been on the edge of breaking down into ether (again). Shards of ice cold air stabbed at his lungs when he forced himself to breathe. Breathing turned into gasping coughs as his body demanded oxygen right fucking now.

Various choruses of panic registered in the background. The immediate and clearest voice wasn't a voice at all: It was a hand frozen to his shoulder, an anchor made of ice ether.

Jin.

"Ow," Malos croaked.

"Fuck he's not dead," Mikhail blurted. From... somewhere. Whatever had happened left Malos's head feeling cracked.

_Somebody make the world stop spinning. I wanna get off,_ Malos groaned privately.

"I'm not dead," Malos confirmed aloud.

Jin helped Malos lever himself off his side and onto his knees. Once he was sure Malos wasn't going to collapse again, Jin inquired, "Millie?"

Malos had to take a second to just breathe. Everything _hurt_. It was difficult to try and untangle how much of that hurt was an echo from his brat and how much was a result of – of whatever the hell he had done.

_...wait. Shit._

"Her heart stopped. Maybe ninety seconds."

"That explains why you collapsed," Mythra's voice noted. It was still damn _weird_ to hear worry about him echo in Mythra's voice.

Blech. Millie's heart stopping explained a hell of a lot about why Malos felt half dead. He _had_ been dead. Again. But the half of his Core Crystal had done its job: It had kept Millie alive. His brat needed him – needed _Torna_ – right the fuck now.

A familiar shadow thrumming with power fell over them all.

"Don't attack it!" Pyra's voice quavered as she reported, "That's an Artifice!"

~ _Siren Model L command complete. Standing by.~_

Getting himself to his feet, Malos took in the sight of a night clad Siren. _His_ Siren, back from the dead, pacing this poor excuse for a boat without any effort whatsoever.

"Malos?" Rex wrapped a dozen questions into his name.

"This one's mine, kid," Malos confirmed. Funny how he'd never realized how much he missed having an Artifice like Siren until it was back. Felt almost like a chunk of his Core had been returned. Speaking of... Malos directed his will. Saying his orders aloud for the benefit of everyone not freaking out further, Malos commanded, "Go. Protect my Driver."

_~Acknowledged.~_

Siren slipped back away from the boat. The Artifice's wings flared with ether. Then – gone. A slim figure getting smaller by the second racing off towards Malos's brat.

Akhos cleared his throat. "Did you just insure Indol received an Artifice in their laps?"

Malos snorted with grim humor. "Least I could do seeing as they stuffed my brat in their bastardized Core _cleansing_ machine."

Akhos adjusted his glasses. Patroka snarled, "They _what_."

"I know we said let's not kill them all," Mikhail spoke up.

"And we're not," Mythra promptly stepped in.

"They tried to murder my Driver!" Mikhail protested.

"Yeah. And you can punch them all in the face. _Think_ , Mikhail! If they're dead, you won't get to see them squirm!"

Mythra's argument cause Mikhail to blink.

"Do you want corpses? Or do you want _examples_ for all of Alrest to see why screwing with an Aegis's Driver is a _bad_ idea?" Mythra pressed.

"Examples how?" Akhos asked.

Malos did not need to see Mythra's grin to tell it had _teeth_. It was Pyra who noted sweetly, "Mòrag and Brighid have been giving us public relations lessons."

...that? Was a terrifying thought.

Jin tensed, attention jerking the direction Siren had flown. A half second later Malos had a worried Artifice sending out an alert _explosion imminent_. What the --

"Oh _damn_ ," Malos breathed, remembering his brat's will to undo what Amalthus had twisted.

Before he could say anything more, a Siren the same colors as Mythra's armor dropped in front of the ship. Its ether shield went active around the same second everyone (sans Jin and himself) started trying to talk at once. At less than a second after the shield went live --

The horizon vanished beneath a mushroom blossom of dark, then blinding _light_.

* * *

 

_Ow_.

An inelegant synopsis of an inelegant situation. It lacked some critical information: What had happened? Was it going to happen again any time soon? Where had she been knocked to? Who had triggered whatever that had been?

Why did it feel like she was alive?

She took stock of herself. She was, against all odds, alive. She could not say she was well: Better, yes, with her Core Crystal whole once again. But she knew better than to delude herself with thoughts of being _well_. The memories of her time as Fan la Norne, plaything of the Praetor, warred with the memories of her time as Haze, beloved companion of Lady Lora. There were some rare gems of happiness as Fan la Norne not spoiled by Amalthus's brainwashing. They were so far and few between they disgusted her.

_Haze_.

Haze was who she was. Haze had her name back. She had her _self_ back. All thanks to a too brave child who had reminded Haze fiercely of Lady Lora.

"Oh my goodness!" Haze sputtered aloud. The young lady! Wherever was she? Surely she could not be far. Haze could feel –

Haze breathed, "Oh my _goodness_."

Haze could feel an ether link. A resonance between herself and her _new_ Driver. Her new, quite young, Driver.

_The babe is no Lady Lora, but she absolutely cannot be worse than Amalthus._

The assessment was sufficient to get Haze out of the last of her stupor. Haze had a Driver to protect and an escape to execute. Better to call it a self-rescue: Now that she had kicked off the last of her shock, Haze could see Indol was in no position to be holding anyone captive. The support beams were all that remained of the once great cathedral. Anything that was remotely flammable was aflame. Haze could only presume all hands were distracted dealing with the damage, its effects, and its cause. Where she had landed was too far to see details without a telescope of some kind.

_You can gawk later_ , Haze chided herself. First priority was locating her Driver. (Also not giggling too much about having an honest Driver. Laughing now would be highly inappropriate.)

Getting to her feet, Haze took in her immediate surroundings. There were flecks of black metal dotting the landscape; if the metal was originally black or simply scorched that way, Haze couldn't tell. The dirt was less discolored than their surroundings. Perhaps whatever had shielded them had likewise protected the earth beneath their feet. No way to tell for certain at this –

_There_ was the young lady. Somehow, through luck or _something_ , the child had been sheltered behind two slabs of metal. The slabs had five lengths of metal arranged like fingers. Those fingers had curled around the child and had secured her safety.

_Not_ like _fingers_ , Haze realized with a jolt of awed horror. _Those_ are _fingers. The hands of an Artifice!_

Fortunately for Haze, the fingers were easy to move. Once there was sufficient room she slipped inside the sheltering grip, cradled the unconscious young lady in her arms, and got out of there. Given this was an Artifice, Haze did _not_ wish to be in its grasp when it awoke. Especially not with its color scheme showing it to be an Artifice not under Mythra's control.

_Why on Alrest would an Artifice_ _bearing_ _Malos's colors protect an infant?_

It was a mystery Haze set pointedly aside for _later_. At this moment she needed to get her Driver and herself as far away from the Pretorium as possible.

A haunting inhuman sckreetch tore the air.

Haze froze. Drawing in a needed lungful of air, she turned towards the sound. Man-sized monsters with rubbery black skin dotted with glows like that of Core Crystals were bursting out of the wrecked flooring. Twisted souls who had martyred themselves on the alter of Indol's greater glory likewise burst free. Some still sane ones looked like they were acting as guard dogs, shepherding figures that might be people to safety. Others were bent for slaughter, their minds as broken as their bodies. It was a sight straight from a glorious depiction of Hell.

_The ether containment systems failed,_ pointed out a detached part of Haze's mind. The rest of her was whimpering with horror at the sight, sympathy for the dead, pity for those struggling to live.

Haze was but one Blade and too far from the madness. She could not save more than her Driver. Once her Driver was safe, she would return. She _would_. Just –

One of the rubbery skinned monsters appeared before her in all its reeking glory. It opened its mouth and _screamed_. Haze called her weapon forward to protect her Driver and shield herself. This thing was far too fast to be real!

Faster than her eyes could track, the thing moved.

The Artifice moved faster.

The back of the massive hand impacted the creature. It yelled with thwarted furry as it was sent caterwauling back into the hurricane which were the remains of Indol. The great hand which had defended them rested palm flat against the ground; the Artifice pushed itself back onto its feet. Ether charged the air in time with red lights illuminating along the Artifice's wings. The two spear-looking weapons at its side rotated forward to form an ether cannon. A single bolt of golden ether shot from the cannon, and promptly splintered into a rain of arrows each half the width of a grown man. Each bolt vaporized attacking monsters and monsters which had once been men.

The silence which fell as abruptly as a thunderclap was just as deafening.

The cannon broke back into spears which folded further to rest along the Artifice's spine. As the cannon was stowed, the Artifice turned to face Haze.

_I fear I shall meet Lady Lora soon,_ Haze thought through shock's numbing grip.

The Artifice knelt down upon one knee. It brought its right hand across its chest. It – bowed its head...?

"Thank you?" Haze managed to squeak.

The Artifice raised its head and reached forward.

Cradling her Driver close, Haze skipped back. " _No_ thank you."

The Artifice held still as only a machine could.

"You're one of Malos's. You may have saved our lives, but I have _very_ little reason to trust you," Haze informed it primly. A detached part of her noted talking to Artifices was crazy. Possibly crazier than her being back from the dead, having a baby Driver, and/or the entire impossible situation she found herself in.

There was a buzz in the air. Quiet but getting steadily louder. It seemed to be coming from – goodness. Haze had no visible bearings to get her directions from. Northwest?

The buzz promptly resolved itself into another Artifice. This one was the same type as the one kneeling before Haze, but it's armor was in Mythra's colors. And it was Mythra's voice that echoed from it in a scratchy stunned incredulous: " _Haze?!_ "

"I don't know how I'm alive, either!" Haze blurted what should have been a hello.

The white and gold Artifice floated so that it could stretch out its folded hands. Gentle as a falling feather, it set a group of people on the ground. Haze's heart simultaneously leaped for joy and tightened with fear at the sight of _Jin_ among the group. There was another Blade that looked vaguely familiar who nudged up his glasses and proceeded to walk quick-step towards Haze. There was the salvager boy Fan la Norne had been sent to fetch, and the other Aegis – Pyra? And then –

Haze blanched.

_Malos...!_

"If you run, I will shock you unconscious," warned the vaguely familiar Blade in glasses. "You are holding my Driver. I am in no mood to be patient, considerate, or _kind_ to _anyone_."

Haze held tight to both Driver and weapon. "You must know who _he_ is!"

The Blade adjuster his glasses. "Which _he_?"

" _Which_ \--?!" Haze sputtered.

"Will you please freak the fuck out later? I need to know my Driver's alright!" snarled Malos. Oddly, he hadn't moved from where Mythra's Artifice had put him.

His words effectively snapped Haze's brain. She managed, " _Your_ Driver?" She sputtered, various little oddities falling into place. But surely it couldn’t…! " _You're_ who she keeps calling _her big_?"

Jin eyed Malos. "Big?"

"What? Malos is hard to say!" confirmed the Aegis of Destruction.

Haze opened her mouth. Closed it. Sat down, carefully, where she stood. Her weapon dissolved back into base ether. She offered no protest when the Blade wearing glasses ran his ether over the sleeping young lady.

"Today has been _very_ confusing," Haze voiced aloud.

"Do tell," snarked the Blade in glasses.

Intellectually, Haze knew he was joking. Her stunned nerves took him literally. "Trapped in an endless black void. Stuck as a – a _ghost_ with a toddler. Facing down Amalthus turned large as an Artifice. Seeing that same Amalthus slain by a toddler's hug!"

The Blade gave Haze a leery eye.

"Very. Confusing," Haze reiterated.

"Very," the Blade concurred. He adjusted his glasses. "You can stop twitching now, Malos. Millie is fine."

"She is not!" Malos countered.

"She _will_ _be_ after some _rest_. Which she will _not_ get if you wake her up!"

Malos fidgeted.

Haze blinked. The realization bared repeating: Malos. Fidgeting. _Malos_. Acting like a nervous caretaker who had seen their charge scrape far too close to danger.

"Am I still dead?" Haze asked no one in particular.

The Blade snorted.

"Fan la Norne," Jin began to speak up.

Hearing _that_ name pass Jin's lips sent ice down her spine. " _Haze_ ," she corrected sharply.

That _thing_ born of the Praetor's madness was dead. Jin had given it peace. Once the world started making sense again, Haze would tell Jin as much. Knowing him as she did, Haze knew he _needed_ to be told. All Haze could do at present was hold her Driver and focus on _not_ bursting into hysterical sobs. Doing so was tempting beyond words.

Jin hesitated. It took him a great effort to say, "Haze."

"Forgive me interrupting, but we need to _go,_ " interceded the Blade. "Welcome back to life, pleasure to have you, so on, so forth. We'll answer whatever questions we can once we're all on the boat."

"Boat?" Haze forced herself to ask.

"We sort of pirated a boat with permission," Pyra hedged.

"Figure you, Akhos, Malos, and Jin should get Millie back to it, yeah? Then use the radio to call in an S.O.S. Pyra, Mythra, and me 'll do what we can for what's left," Rex spoke up.

Malos and Pyra exchanged speaking looks. Malos sighed.

There wasn't time to protest. By the time Haze realized there was a need _to_ protest, Malos's fist had connected with the back of Rex's neck. Rex's eyes went wide and he sucked in a stunned breath. Pyra caught him as the young salvager lost consciousness.

"I take it the Artifices are saying there isn't anything left to save?" the Blade figured.

"There is, but..." Pyra hesitated.

" _Rex has seen enough. He doesn't need to see this,_ " Mythra's shaking voice declared.

"Ah. War zone?"

"Yeah," Malos confirmed. The fact he sounded _sad_ was one more oddity added to the day.

"I'll be needed, then." The Blade stood, adjusting his glasses as he did. "Malos, you and – Haze, was it? – should get Millie to the others. The sooner an S.O.S. is sent, the better."

Malos hesitated a moment. He exhaled slowly. "Siren can take the three of them. My brat, Haze, and Rex," Malos clarified. He looked once again to Pyra.

"I'll stay as well," Pyra insisted.

Malos nodded, the gesture grim. His eyes flicked to Jin. Jin's lips pressed into a thin line and eyed the remains of Indol with wary and equally grim hesitation. After a heartbeat Jin announced near too soft to hear, "I will stay."

"Right," Malos acknowledged quietly. The Aegis of Destruction turned to his Artifice – and his next word sent Haze's stomach dropping to her feet: "Siren."

The Artifice moved with gentle swiftness to scoop Haze into its hands. Haze had a second enough to yelp protest and hold tighter to her Driver. The Artifice bent down a second time to collect Pyra's unconscious armful of salvager. Before Haze could articulate any of her concerns, the Artifice was lifting up into the air and away from Indol.

All Haze could do was hold on tight – and pray.


	24. Regroup and Recover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised a reviewer earlier that, in this fic, nobody dies who isn’t already dead. *evil grin*
> 
> Unrelated tangent: How the heck do you spell gerry-rigged? Is it with a “g”? A “j”? Does it even have a hyphen? I am confused.

Iona twitched at the sound of things clattering off shelves in grandpa's room. Following a final thud of a heavy tome came Obrona's muttering, "Ow..."

Setting down the book of incomplete plays she hadn't been reading (much of), Iona headed for her Blade. The child sighed, "Are you okay? I did say it was heavy."

"I thought you meant human heavy. That was heavy enough Cressidus shoulda been here!" Obrona protested.

"Cressidus was your friend before?" Iona asked. She gently nudged Obrona's hands aside from the bump on her head. Nothing too bad for a healthy Blade. Iona gave it a kiss to make it better.

Obrona giggled and whined, "Iona~ I'm fine, silly!"

Iona giggled at Obrona's antics. The thought snuck back as it had over the past few days: Was Obrona acting silly just to cheer her up? Maybe she was. Iona found she didn't mind it much. It helped make a little smaller the hole where grandfather should be.

Setting aside the maybes and the what-ifs with a sigh, Iona looked around grandpa's room. The tallest shelf had broken its right bracket, setting the shelf askew. Gravity had done the rest, sending all the disorganized volumes of books and knickknacks of life bouncing to the ground. The added clutter made the already cramped room feel claustrophobic.

"You don't have to do this, you know." When Iona blinked at her, Obrona hummed, "No one smart is expecting you to be okay. We just buried him a few days ago."

"I know," Iona said, voice soft. She looked at the familiar disorganized mess. "I think this helps, though. I _want_ to do this."

Obrona's pseudo-wings flicked. "If you're sure..."

"I am." Iona turned to the fallen items. "Come on. Let's get this organized."

Obrona gave a slapdash salute and hopped-to. Fetching a few of the boxes Iona had started in Cole's study, she set them accordingly. One box was for old plays that weren't quite finished. One for books, plays, and paper things Cole hadn't written. One for trash. A final box for knickknacks and things that needed better sorting later. Iona put the Core Crystal and the paper folded around it into the knickknacks box –

Obrona and Iona both froze. Slowly, they both looked at the knickknacks box. The faint iridescent blue glow proved the Core Crystal to be a genuine article.

Iona looked at Obrona. Obrona met Iona's look, and shrugged.

Very carefully, Iona withdrew the Core Crystal. Tentative fingers unwrapped the paper from it. Setting the Crystal down, Iona unfolded the paper. It was an old piece of parchment; it took some doing to get it laid out flat. For all the page was old, the bold black ink looked as though it had just been laid.

_You're welcome._

Iona flipped the paper back and front. No matter how she looked, all she saw were those two words.

"Lemme see! Maybe there's some hidden ink!" Obrona suggested.

Iona handed over the letter. Truthfully, it was the Core Crystal which had caught Iona's attention. Had grandfather kept a friend safe, waiting for a time and a Driver worthy of waking them? Maybe they were a friend who... never wanted to wake? No, that would be silly. In the end there was only one way to find out the Core Crystal's secret. Remembering grandfather's words on how best to wake a Blade, Iona picked up the sleeping Core Crystal. It seemed to her as though it were eager to wake, prickling at her fingers with touches like whiskers brushing past. Iona held it close and wished upon the Core Crystal.

The sound of Obrona dropping the paper was lost in the sparkling rush of the Blade taking form. Dark light pooled around Iona the same way electricity had danced when Obrona had awakened. The motes of dark light swirled around, settling as a mist upon the floor. The Blade themselves appeared within the center of the mist. The Blade was kneeling, right arm resting on their right knee, head bowed. Brown hair formed a zig-zag bolt from crown to mid throat on the left side of their face; it further streamed down in a loose ponytail from the nape of their neck. Their armor was dark black trimmed with gold reinforced with tan leather. Their Core Crystal looked – mmm. Pretty normal, Iona guessed. There was some red mixed with the blue, but Iona did not know if that meant much if anything for a normal Blade.

Their hands and nose twitched as the Blade woke. Groaning with grogginess, the Blade lifted their head. They had what looked like a scar across their right eye and cheek. How odd. The longer Iona looked at it, the longer the scar seemed familiar. Though, really, it must have just been her imagination. The scar in conjunction with green eyes were confusing her. It simply wasn't –

The Blade squinted sleepily at her. After a lengthy beat, he asked, "Iona...?"

Iona felt the world stop. Obrona flared her pseudo-wings, letting out a jolt of electricity which flickered the lights. Iona felt it made her flicker, too.

"...grandpa...?"

Arms which had been strong in her memories even when reality had made them frail wrapped around her now. They pulled her forward; familiar hands tucked her head against a familiar shoulder.

Shaking, Iona clung to unfamiliar clothing.

Iona's – healthy; alive; impossibly real! – grandfather loosened his tight hug. His voice sounded strange being so vibrant but the cadence was familiar as breathing: "The last thing I remember is closing my eyes for a late afternoon nap. I suppose that's when...?"

"In your sleep. It was p-peaceful," Iona sniffled.

"It was," he assured her gently. "I vaguely recall Vandham saying he enjoyed the play you helped me write. How much of that is an actual memory, and how much is whatever did _this_ to me, I can't say."

Iona pulled back in concern. "This?"

"I'm not a Flesh Eater any more. At least I don't feel like one," her grandfather reported.

Obrona spat out, "You're not different, though! Y-Your ether signature is just like it was –!"

"Iona! Obrona! What in Shakespeare's name is going on?"

Obrona floated sharply upwards in alarm. Iona likewise tensed, feeling a distinct edge of panic. How on Alrest would she explain? _Could_ she explain? So few people had know grandfather was a Blade!

Grandfather winked at her. His voice rising as he stood, grandfather said aloud, "My apologies for startling you, young Driver. My name is Minoth. Might I have the pleasure my Driver's name?"

Catching on Iona answered, "Its Iona! And this is Obrona!"

"Pleasure to meet you, Minoth!" Obrona crowed a little too loudly.

Iona had no idea what had happened. She likely never would. All things considered, she was content to look for no further explanation than: It was a miracle.

* * *

 

The teacup was shaking.

Putting it down on the small table in this even smaller room, Haze folded her hands in her lap. The room she had been placed into was the captain's private dining room. Why a boat this small would have such a thing was beyond Haze. The whole situation made no sense whatsoever. The calming breath of distance both of time and of physical location gave her back some semblance of balance – but.

But.

There was a mumble from the crib.

Standing, Haze headed for it. Her small lady stretched within the crib's confines, mouth opening wide in a yawn. Golden eyes blinked sleep aside. A bright smile graced her as her Driver woke enough to recognize her surroundings.

"Good morning," Haze smiled. Her Driver giggled in greeting. Another minute to orient herself, and her Driver was at work getting to her feet. "Would you like a hand getting out?"

A bright nod affirmative.

Haze picked up her Driver with all due care. So close a brush to death had left its mark, even if those marks were not readily visible. The young lady took in the room carefully, instinctively holding onto Haze's cloths. What another would have seen as shyness, Haze saw as caution.

_What on Alrest have you been through, young lady?_

Haze was afraid to ask.

"We were rescued," Haze informed her.

The young lady was unsurprised, merely nodding her understanding. Haze carried her to the small table. Settling herself back into the single chair, Haze settled her Driver to sit in her lap.

"Do forgive me. With all the strange goings-ons, I have not had a chance to introduce myself. My name is Haze."

Her Driver smiled, showing she understood.

"And your name, young lady?"

The infant puckered her lips. Focusing intently, the girl attempted to voice, "Mil-ll- Mmmmilll– _pfft_." Centering herself she tried once more: "Mmiil – Mmm--" Frustration caused her to give a wordless cry. She pointed toward the door –

"Her name's Millie."

Haze tensed. Having not heard the door open, she was unprepared for Malos to be in the room. Quite frankly she was unprepared for Malos to be _alive_. Haze was even further unprepared for Malos to be acting cordial.

Malos moved to lean against the wall next to the door, thus leaving the doorway unblocked. He kept his right ankle hooked over his left and crossed his arms loosely over his chest. It was as though Malos were trying to be non-threatening and was well aware he was failing.

"She's been through shit," Malos continued. "Spoken words suck. She's getting better with hand signs."

The young lady worked her fingers into an approximation of a sign. Multiple signs were strung together with diligent care.

"Mikhail is working with Pyra and Jin on making some of those frozen fruit pops," Malos said.

The young lady pouted. Her fingers got tied into a knot. Blowing out her frustrations, she fussily reached for Malos. With the room as small as it was, Malos was standing in front of Haze before Haze had time to realize Malos's intent. The Aegis of Destruction picked up little Millie with a gentleness which tore at Haze's heart. Cradling her carefully and closely, Malos held the young lady so their foreheads could touch.

"As soon as we're behind a door with actual walls, you can throw as big a fit as you want, brat," Malos murmured.

"She... rather earned it," Haze shakily mused.

The young lady wiggled and frowned. "Playing pretend with those asshats was the right move," Malos stated as though replying to a statement Haze could not hear. The young lady sighed. Malos kept his tone neutral even though his lips quirked in a wicked smirk. "So was listening to Jin's advice about not chewing on ankles." Another faint complaint was issued. Malos's smirk turned into a worried frown. "You scared the shit out of me, brat. You scared all of us shitless."

Haze's young Driver attempted to make herself small in Malos's hold. Malos pressed his lips to the crown of her head. The action needed no words to be understood: _I love you and I forgive you for scaring me so badly_ never _do it again._

...Haze absently wondered if there was such a thing as alcohol which could work on Blades. And if there was, would it be effective in restringing her utterly shot nerves.

"We've got a list."

Haze did not quite startle as her wandering (stalled dead in shock) thoughts were yanked back to Malos.

"A list," Malos continued, "of all the impossible and insane crap that's happened since I found myself back from the dead. Top of it? Everyone is not dead even though they damn well should be. I broke down into _base ether_."

Haze blinked. Several times.

"Yeah," Malos concurred. The Aegis of Destruction bounced young Millie so as to readjust his hold. "Brat wants outta this pigeonhole of a room." _You coming?_ a raised eyebrow inquired.

Leaving in the company of Malos and her Driver made more sense than staying.

...Haze deliberately stood. "Let's," _before I panic, burst into sobs, or have a breakdown._

Malos led the way through the small boat. More persons than were attached to the crew fluttered through the halls with deliberate purpose. A few of them wore uniforms: Ardanian soldiers? Uryan soldiers? Guardsmen from Tantal? And that was in addition to the hodgepodge of armor, weapons, and Blades which meant mercenaries of all stripes. They might have all been from the same band. Haze hoped so; mercenaries could get competitive with rival groups.

Taking a sharp right brought them into what looked like the galley.

"Mil'!"

Haze had enough of a warning to step to one side before a blond man was in Malos's personal space. The blond ignored the rolling eyes of Malos, his devout attention on the young lady. He demanded gently, "You alright, Mil'?"

Millie nodded. She tried to form her fingers into more of those signals.

The blond's worried expression softened. "Cressidus is fine. He took a pretty bad hit; Malos fixed him up."

The young lady looked relieved. She asked softly, "Mik'el?"

"I'm fine, too, Mil'. Just... If you can help it? _Never_ scare me that bad again. I thought we'd lost you."

Millie sniffled, "Mik'el..."

"Still got work in the kitchen?" Malos demanded gruffly.

"Taking a brea-- eek!"

Abruptly, the blond's arms were full of toddler. "Brat is in a clingy mood," Malos reported.

"Oh. Great. Five of us and only one of her? Lessons on sharing," joked the blond. The blond's eyes flicked to Haze. "Um... I should... go get Jin. If we're gonna – I mean, he said...?"

Malos rolled his eyes. "I'll get him. You, sit. Brat, make sure Mikhail doesn't do something stupid, like to run off and hide in engineering or jump off the boat."

"Don't tempt me," the blond demanded, holding a little tighter to young Millie. Millie herself nodded with all the solemnness her age could muster.

Malos shoved the blond (gently out of difference to the child or out of camaraderie?) to a bench. The blond obeyed even as Malos made for the sounds of kitchen industry. Not quite sure what else to do, Haze sat across from the blond. The air filled with an awkward tenseness between them. The young lady looked from one to the other, as flummoxed regarding what she should or could do as the alleged adults.

The blond blurted, "You don't remember me. No, no," he rambled when Haze startled, "its cool. Fine. Its been five hundred years and all. I was... a lot shorter... last time I saw you. I'm sorry we couldn't get your Core Crystal back from Indol before... yeah."

Five hundred years ago? Thinking on her time with Lady Lora was easy; the memories were dearest and clearest to her. Five hundred years ago she had met many children with Tornan blue eyes and many more with a whole rainbow assortment of hair colors. What had Malos said the blond's name was?

"Mik'el?" The young lady's lip wobbled with concerned tears.

Mik'el...? No. Not – " _Mikhail?!_ "

Awed hopeful delight tore across the blond's face to be replaced by embarrassed dread. "Blade Eater," he blurted.

Damned if that did not explain everything.

Haze gave in and banged her head against the table. She had never wanted to kill a living soul before. If Amalthus were alive, she would be _sorely tempted_.

"Er...?"

Without moving from where her head had impacted, Haze held up a hand. Mikhail went silent. After a moment Haze gave up trying for any semblance of normality. Sitting upright, Haze enunciated each word of her demand: "I. Need. A. Hug."

A faint smirk tugged at Mikhail's lips. Architect help her – now that she was looking, Haze could see it truly was Mikhail. Grown into a scarred man, but still, under layers of centuries of pain, Lady Lora's little foundling.

"Jin needs, like, a zillion," Mikhail reported.

"Can you still be bribed with talisman charms?" At Mikahil's questioning blink, Haze explained, "I need to pin Jin down at some point in the very near future to discuss what happened on Temperentia. Moreover," she ran over Mikhail's wince, "I need to _thank him_. Being _stuck_ behind the _thing_ Amalthus created was a fate worse than death. Jin rescued me the only way I could be rescued. It is going to be a very awkward conversation which will likely require pinning Jin down behind sheet steel just to _slow him down_ enough for me to hug him."

"Mil' works better than sheet steel." Mikhail grinned at the girl in his arms. "What do you say, you lethal cute disrupter of angst. Wanna help give Jin some of those zillion hugs he needs?"

Millie bounced in a clear, _Yes!_ She added a bright cheer of, "Big!"

Three things happened at once: Malos rumbled, "I draw the line at hugs." The bench beneath Haze thumped as the air abruptly chilled. Jin was thrown to sit onto the bench hard enough his spine impacted the table.

Haze was steadying Jin without thinking.

Jin and Haze both froze. Jin's eyes as he looked at Haze were wide, then slid away, shamefaced. This was something that could not stand.

So Haze leaned forward and up – and planted a simple chaste kiss to Jin's cheek.

Wide eyes jerked to Haze as she leaned back. Haze promised, "I meant every word."

Swallowing, Jin looked away. Voice cracking, Jin whispered, "I failed her.

Reaching up, Haze brushed Jin's bangs aside. The red color of his Core cast a faint bloody glow. Haze spoke softly: "You fought to her last breath. And with her last breath, Lady Lora saved you from the fate I was condemned."

Jin caught Haze's hand. His own hand was shaking as he pressed her hand against his chest. Jin confessed, "I ate her heart."

"You kept her memories safe within you," Haze corrected.

A sad slurry of emotions tore at Jin's voice. " _How...?!_ "

"I know you, Jin. You may have slipped. You may have fallen. But for her? You would _never_ have given up."

A sob jerked against Jin's control.

Haze had been so focused on Jin, she had not seen the young lady move. With Mikhail's able assistance, Millie had crawled up onto the table, then crawled directly across to Malos. (Or so Haze presumed.) Malos had helped the young lady down onto the bench. From there, young lady Millie planted herself firmly against Jin's side. Her presence made Jin freeze, stunned.

"Jin!" Millie called out.

Shaking as he did so, Jin pulled Millie into his arms. The little infant held tight. Another sob cracked against Jin's control. Haze held Jin tight as well, bracing him as the sobs began a coordinated assault. Ice ether drifted up from him like speckles of stardust against the night sky. As Jin yielded to his heart's demand, his armor shattered. What replaced it was black as night; it left his chest and back bare. It was not unexpected if the non-reaction from Malos and Mikhail were anything to go by.

Millie and Haze both held tight to Jin as his tears washed clean the festering wounds within.

* * *

 

Jin had needed that.

As much as Malos did not want to think too hard about it – Father. Jin had _needed_ that. In the aftermath of Jin having collapsed in sobs, the ether flow around him felt _clean_. Like walking up to a window and seeing pure white cover every inch of ground, tree, and sky from door to horizon. Wrack his memory though he might, Malos could not recall a time when Jin's ether flow felt so – right.

His brat looked at him from Jin's arms. Jin, she was trying to say, needed a nap.

 _He needs a lot more than a nap,_ Malos wanted to snark. But what Jin actually needed wasn't something Malos could figure out. Haze seemed to have a solid idea. For now, Malos figured it would be enough.

Jin leashed his ether back to its usual levels. What felt like a panorama of snow narrowed from a whole valley to a town square. Maybe keeping his ether leashed tight all the time was part of the problem.

 _Or maybe you're just_ _clueless,_ _grasping at straws,_ Malos grumped to himself.

There was a faint _thump_ on the far end of the mess. If an Indoline survivor had gotten into Rex's gerry-rigged command ship and passed out at the sight of him, Haze, or both, Malos was going to _throw_ them off –

Oh. Just Rex. Pyra and Mythra's Driver was seated at one of the farthest tables from them so as to give them some space. The kid had his arms folded on the table's top and was resting his head against his wrists. The kid's shoulders shook faintly and – aw, damn. Rex was quietly sobbing. It said something depressing Malos hoped the kid was crying out of sympathy for Jin instead of...

Mythra sat down next to Rex. Malos's counterpart looked him in the eye, nodded once in a professional hello, and then gathered up her Driver. So – no. Not a sympathy sob.

 _Father damn it_. Amalthus was dead, and he was _still_ finding ways to screw with Malos's life.

A snap of electric ether crackled through the mess. _Familiar_ electric ether.

"Put me _down_ you two bit excuse for a Neolithic troglodyte!" Akhos bellowed.

"Going to have to be snappier then that with your bolts, old bean. Pandy zaps harder without even trying!" Zeke crowed cheerfully.

Malos blinked at the sight which entered the mess, and knew he wasn’t the only one. Out the corner of his eye, Malos could see Jin’s eyes were a touch too wide. Haze had her hand pressed to her mouth to keep a giggle politely sealed. Bets were even Mikhail had his jaw hanging open. Watching Akhos bellow, “ _I will electrocute you until you are nothing more than bones!_ ” while slung like an unruly sack of glitter spuds over Crown Prince Zeke von Genbu’s shoulder was pretty freaking nuts.

“Ah- _ha_! There you lot are.” Zeke kept enough distance between himself and their group to insure Akhos’s continued sparking did not risk zapping them. “Frosty! Did you not tell this chum to pack it in for a break?”

“ _uh-oh_ ,” Mikhail murmured below average human hearing.

The leashed whip-crack of ice ether from a concerned and annoyed Jin called for a bit of “uh-oh”ing. Jin’s concern bled into his tone as he confirmed, “I did. Two hours ago.”

Zeke bounced Akhos in emphasis. “Apparently, sparky here figured that was a _suggestion_. Furry ears clued me in to the fact he was still in the med-bay treating the mercs who went toe-to-toe with both types of guldos. And when we tried to _politely_ remind sparky even an Aegis needs a bloody break, he zapped Nia! Couldn’t very well let that attitude stand.”

“It had less force behind it then static cling on socks shuffled across carpet,” Akhos gruffly reported, shoving his glasses back into place with both hands before Zeke’s jostling could dislodge them.

“Akhos.”

Akhos pulled a Patroka: He huffed out a “ _che_ ” and turned to look away from Jin.

“Going to throw a temper tantrum, Akhos? Sounds like you need a nap. Right, brat?” Malos nonchalantly inquired.

Akhos jerked as though he had been zapped. Head twisting back to look at them, his eyes focused on Millie. From her spot in Jin’s lap Millie puffed up her chest, crossed her arms, and huffed, “ _Ack_.”

Zeke put Akhos down with a faint grin. The healer crossed the distance and damn near slid to take a knee, putting himself at eye-level with Millie. Electric ether crackled faintly around his fingers as Akhos ran his right hand through Millie’s hair to rest against her cheek. There might have been a faint choke in his voice as he whispered, “You’re alright.”

“Ack,” Millie repeated. She looked at Malos with a request Malos could feel in his Core.

Malos rolled his eyes. “Fine. You get a break from practicing your words for now, brat.” Malos turned his attention to Akhos. “Akhos. You will take a damn break right the fuck now, or I _will_ punch you unconscious. The brat will then sit on your ass until _she_ thinks you’re okay. Given she’s in a damn clingy mood, that could be a while.”

“Being sat on is not a deterrent,” Akhos countered with his eyes still on Millie.

Lip wobbling, Millie looked up at Jin. Jin gave a slight nod. Without a further word or gesture between them, Jin helped Millie into Akhos’s arms – and then yanked Akhos so he was seated squished between Malos and Jin. Four adult-sized Blades put the bench to full capacity.

“Pandy’s getting Patroka last I heard,” Zeke reported. Malos acknowledged with an absent wave. Idiot and message thus delivered, Zeke headed over to Rex and Mythra. Malos watched as Zeke folded himself into the hug Mythra still had on Rex – and then looked away.

A small stomach rumbling was distraction enough.

“I know where the applesauce is!” Mikhail immediately volunteered, hopping to his feet. His voice rambled on as he vanished back into the kitchen area: “And where the prepped fruit pop molds are. And breakfast – dinner, I guess, for the rest of us.”

Haze tentatively spoke into Mikhail’s absence: “How long as it been since…?”

“Two days, roughly,” Jin answered.

“Rex can organize and deploy resources more efficiently than I can, when given an opportunity. It was educational to observe,” Akhos mused.

“Two days?” Haze echoed. Her eyes widened a bit as she looked at Millie. “But that would mean…”

“Brat was unconscious for a little over eighteen hours,” Malos confirmed. If he wanted to know exact times, he could get it from his brat’s half of his Core Crystal. Eighteen was a good enough estimate.

His brat blinked. Looking at her fingers, she started trying to count. When she ran out of fingers, she blinked and looked at Malos.

It was Akhos who answered: “Eighteen is ten,” he tapped both of Millie’s hands, “plus eight more,” and held up eight of his own fingers next to Millie’s.

His brat’s eyes went wide.

“And now you know part of why we were all scared shitless,” Malos confirmed.

Malos could feel Millie wanted to hug all of them at once. Given her size, she fussily settled for turning to give Akhos a one-armed hug while grabbing for Jin’s hand. The brat did not let go until Mikhail got back with a double armful of food: Applesauce for the brat, along with granola crackers, scrambled eggs, toast, and fried glitter spuds. As Mikhail offloaded everything, Malos and Jin, by dint of being closest to where Mikhail was putting things, started distributing the spread. It took some nudging from Akhos to get Millie facing towards the table. That the brat went after applesauce with less enthusiasm than normal was understandable: She was _upset_. How worried everyone had been for her was starting to sink in.

Patroka showed up without announcement. Her hair was still dripping water, and the cloth portions of her armor were still wet from a hasty wash. Malos made a mental note to drop a hint to Patroka about following Jin's advice when it came to taking breaks. With some luck, and help from his brat, Malos could get Jin to likewise follow his own advice a hell of a lot more often.

"Hey," Patroka said by way of hello.

Millie laid out a small pile of the granola crackers and, careful as she could, put applesauce on each cracker. When she started trying to hand them out to everyone, starting with Akhos as she was in his lap, Malos felt a smile threaten. Ah – hell with it.

Malos snagged his cracker from the plate. A look from his brat to confirm she knew he was going to be good, and Malos slid the plate over to Patroka and Mikhail.

Patroka took her cracker with a grunt, "Thanks, brat." Mikhail melted with a quiet, "Awww, thank you, Mil'!" Sliding the plate down to the last two got a nod from Jin and a bright, "How sweet!" from Haze.

"Are you interested in learning how to cook, young lady?" Haze inquired. Millie gave an interested coo. "If memory serves, Mikhail is quite skilled. So too is Jin."

It was Malos's turn to blink. Patroka beat him to the question: "Jin can cook?"

Jin squirmed a hair. "I'm five hundred years out of practice."

...well _shit_.

"No time like the present to get back to it, if you wish," Haze recovered swiftly, almost managing to hide her horrified stunned reaction.

Jin simply hummed, avoiding looking at anything more complex then his dinner plate.

"When are we getting out of here?" Patroka inquired, shattering the silence. "Everything within the realm we could handle is dealt with." Akhos raised his fork to make a point. Patroka steamrolled over him with, "They've got enough medics one healing Blade won't be missed."

Akhos used his fork to spear fried glitter spuds. Watching him pouting was too damn entertaining.

"We're heading back to Tantal for the rest of the Crown Summit?" Malos inquired.

Patroka reported, "Word is Summit's on hold pending a joint investigation into what's left of Indol."

"Good luck. It's not like the bastards would have left records," Mikhail snorted derisively.

"I'd be greatly surprised if any records, existent or not, survived the ether containment breach," Haze hummed.

"Ether what now?" Mikhail poked.

From the way Jin had shifted, Haze had shuddered. After a beat Haze answered, "They were using a combination of ether net based technologies to keep what they called the Architect's Condemned and various Blade Eater related experiments... contained. It was a significant power draw. Loss of containment would have caused a surge that resulted in a sizable explosion."

Malos nodded. "Add in the feedback from getting Amalthus's _present_ disarmed inside multiple Core Crystals simultaneously, and --"

" _Boom_ ," Akhos filled in.

"Boom," Malos confirmed.

"Records, no records, whatever. Not our problem," Patroka countered.

Suspicion bit. "What have you heard, Patroka?" Malos demanded.

Patroka stabbed dinner with excessive zeal. "Twenty different refrains of how the explosion was an act of the Architect invoking his wrath. Another forty on how a divine instrument laid down the Architect's law." Her eyes flicked to Mikhail. "You don't want to hear what they're calling the modern guldos."

"Modern guldos?" Haze inquired.

"Blade Eaters like Gort," Jin answered.

"Ah." Haze set down her utensils. Probably so she wouldn't be tempted to break them as she figured, "They're calling them heroes. Martyrs for the greater good of Indol. Servants of the Architect who made the ultimate sacrifice."

Malos shot a look to Patroka. A grim nod was answer enough.

Mikhail's quiet voice was loaded with contained wrath: "And how many of those _selfless souls_ do you figure were refugees taken right out of the camps."

So that was how Amalthus had gotten his hands on Mikhail. One kid in a refugee camp without anyone looking after him? Would be damn easy pickings.

"Fuck Amalthus," Malos snarled.

"Language!" Haze chirped. Malos leaned around Jin and Akhos to glare. Haze didn't so much as flinch. "I fully agree on principle. That's still no excuse to dirty up a young lady's vocabulary."

Malos rolled his eyes. Right. Haze was like Lora. From what Jin had said, Lora had been as much a sap as Rex.

 _...shit. She's going to want to kill me when she finds out about Torna_ , Malos realized. Not that he didn't deserve at least some ass kicking. Still.

"Think we can hit up the aft end of Temperentia?" Malos tossed out.

"Blow off some steam?" Akhos inquired.

"Something like that," Malos neither confirmed nor denied. Maybe he'd get lucky and Haze would blast rocks rather than him.

Pyra announced herself by setting down two steaming platters of baked rolls. Without preamble, she plopped herself down next to Patroka. The fire element Aegis stated, “Rex needs to leave. There’s nothing more he can do here.”

“Blowing shit up is cathartic,” Mikhail noted tentatively.

Pyra managed a smile that did not reach her eyes. Looking at Jin, she offered, “If you all are agreeable to spending some time in Garfont, a stop-over for a day in Temperentia is doable.”

Jin took a rough accounting of their opinions. Patroka rolled her eyes; Mikhail shrugged, turning the motion into a grab for some of the goods Pyra had delivered; Akhos hummed an affirmative with the majority of his attention on getting Millie a balanced diet. Malos gave a slight nod. There was a slight hesitation before Jin looked at Haze. The newest Blade of Torna gave a gentle smile. Majority opinion received, Jin told Pyra, “That’s fine.”

Pyra bounced to her feet. “I’ll get it all arranged.” She hesitated a moment, looking at Rex and Mythra. And then she pushed herself forward to get things in motion.


	25. Sunset

The one major problem with Garfont was its location: It was in Uraya’s guts, just (relatively speaking) past the Titan’s mouth. It put them far removed from Fonsa Myma – and also far removed from the easiest trade routes. The Garfont mercs had broken trail enough times travel was not an unendurable hardship. Even so, and even with a pair of covered wagons to ease the transport of goods, wounded mercs, and the occasional toddler, it was still a bloody slog.

At least Millie enjoyed the scenery.

“I still say this is a bad idea,” Akhos fretted.

Malos looked over at Millie staring attentively at – what was she staring at? Whatever it was, it had Mikhail’s attention, too. The five hundred year old kid was crouched next to the two year old kid, their expressions of intense concentration a matched set. There was a tiny shuffle in the grass; barely perceptible at this distance.

“You only dropped in once,” Malos countered absently.

Millie pounced forward abruptly. The tiny shuffle turned into a blue ladybird flying off for its little buggy life. Millie made a second attempt, jumping as high as she could. The bug escaped her tiny fingers – but not Mik’s.

“I made an impression,” Akhos recalled glumly.

Crouching carefully down, Mikhail showed off his catch to Millie. Malos’s brat giggled in awe, wide eyes taking in every detail about the bug.

“Staving off a welcoming comity is why Rex, Pyra, and Mythra went on ahead. Besides,” Malos lowered his voice to insure they weren’t overheard, “I’m the one whose head they’ll want on a pike.”

“Only if Rex told them who delivered the fatal blow,” Akhos countered, voice equally low. Watching Mikhail and Millie, Akhos bemoaned, “We really should have stayed on Temperentia.”

Blowing the landscape to hell _had_ been cathartic. Likewise, dealing with various monsters who had gotten too big for their britches had been a neat distraction. The sauros who had been bugging the Ardanian contingent at Judecium’s old capital had been a decent challenge, if a bit short lived. Dealing with it had thawed some of the awkward chill between Jin and Haze. Nothing like four foot long teeth snapping for vital body parts to get through problems and build team camaraderie.

“Not like we could have stayed long,” Malos pointed out, setting aside fond memories of explosions.

“Point,” Akhos conceded. He fussed with his glasses again. “We could have hopped a transport out of Fonsa Myma.”

“To?” Malos countered.

Without a ready answer, Akhos twitched.

There was a ruckus of movement from the lead wagon’s driver. By time Malos turned to see what was going on, the driver was raising his voice in a holler: “Garfont ahead home _ho_!”

The mercs rose their voices in an answering shout: “ _Ho!_ ”

Shaking his head, Malos put it down to being a mercenary quirk. Too damn bad they hadn’t waited another twenty seconds when his brat would have been done ogling the bug. As it was, once the noise had died down, Millie made a toddler beeline for Jin’s shins. During the trip, she had decided with all due serious to give Jin ten hugs every day; something about Jin being owed a zillion hugs. She would have gone for twenty a day, but she had frankly admitted she had limits. Numbers bigger than ten were hard for her to figure. So, ten a day it was. Jin had taken her decision with grace.

Without looking as though he had changed his pace, Jin slowed enough for Millie’s improved toddling skills to catch up with him. Once Millie was in range of his kneecaps, Jin bent down to boost Millie to his hip without breaking stride.

“Do you remember what we discussed in Temperentia?” Jin inquired.

His brat thought hard. There had been a lot of things going on in Temperentia from her point of view. After a couple of minutes wracking her brain, Millie strung together the words for _big_ , _ouch, old,_ and _mistake._

Jin nodded, serious as though he were addressing an adult. “Malos, Mikhail, Akhos, Patroka, and I made terrible mistakes. Mistakes which can never be corrected. Several people were hurt by our actions. Several died. Many of those people who were hurt live in this village. They may try to hurt us in return.” Millie clung tight to Jin. Running his hand down her spine, Jin continued: “Rex, Pyra, and Mythra went ahead to warn them we were coming. It should not come to blows. Even so, there will be people within who will wish us ill. That is why you will stay with Haze for the time being.”

Millie tightened her hug around Jin’s neck.

“It is safest for you, Millie.” Jin gave his brat a chaste kiss to her crown.

Malos tapped their ether link in an incorporeal reminder.

Wrinkling her nose to hold back a sniffle, Millie pouted. Sure, she knew she wasn’t going to loose her Blades. She just didn’t _know_ she wasn’t going to loose them. Even if she did not physically remember many details due to her age, part of her still vividly remembered the guldos ripping the heart out of her world. The possibility it might happen again was too much for her to process.

Haze herself spoke up: “Jin?” When Jin acknowledged, Haze continued, “I was thinking. It may be a clearer deceleration of intent _not_ to harm if one of you _did_ hold on to Millie. It is rather difficult to do more than shield when one’s arms are full of toddler.”

Jin frowned.

“Merely a suggestion,” Haze hummed.

Jin shook his head negative, countering, “It would only shield one of us.” As Jin handed her over to Haze, Millie gave a single fussy grump. “Worst case, you stay. We run.”

“And we meet you back at Fonsa Myma at the bolt-hole safe house, such as it is. I remember,” Haze assured them all.

Father, Malos hoped Haze really was as steadfast as Jin. The two kidnappings had given Malos a visceral preview into what it would be like to loose his brat prematurely. He did _not_ want a triple encore performance this time with added mob.

Patroka added herself to the conversation: “They probably have a sparing pit, you know. They want to take us in a fight, they can do it there. Where everyone can watch us settle up our tab by fighting – ugh. _Fair_. If we have to.”

The two wagons had gotten through the gates, as had the majority of their "escorts". There was no more reason to delay their own entry. Plus, sooner they got whatever shit out of the way, sooner they could all cue up for the baths. This place _had_ to have baths, right? Showers or some way to get the travel dust out of his teeth. Father, five days on roads (lack thereof) were three days too many.

Akhos crossed the threshold – and froze.

Malos took the necessary two steps back to grab Akhos by the scruff of his neck.

Fussing with his glasses as he dodged, Akhos shot Malos a glare. "There's an ether signature here which shouldn't be," Akhos reported.

Malos frowned. "Someone we know?"

"Obrona."

Malos's eyebrows bounced up. Last Malos had overheard – because Patroka and Akhos having a sibling spat was the opposite of quiet – Obrona's Core Crystal had been shipped off to a certain playhouse in Fonda Myma. Kinda melodramatic to send Obrona to the kid; but hell, beat any place else Malos could think off off-hand.

"Maybe the kid said no," Patroka suggested.

"I --" Akhos damn near bit his tongue off his jaw snapped shut so fast.

Haze gasped brightly, "Minoth?"

...fuck.

Turning towards Haze's voice, Malos fought to keep his jaw closed. Torna had come back from the dead. Why not rejuvenate an old Flesh Eater Amalthus had personally screwed over?

Malos got a suspicious feeling Ontos was watching _with_ popcorn.

"Haze!" the impossibly young looking Flesh Eater laughed. The brunette stopped shy of giving Haze a hug. "Back to your old self, I see."

"The start of this week was... very confusing," Haze paraphrased tactfully. "But yes. I'm... back. Er...?"

"That's not," Akhos attempted to say.

"It is," Malos confirmed, almost but not quite as tongue tied as Akhos.

"But that's not...!"

"Neither is us breathing."

Akhos gulped. Subtly. Quietly. But damn obviously to anybody right next to him.

Haze had adjusted her hold on Millie, partially for something to do, partially because the brat was giving Minoth an assessing _look_. Haze asked, "Did you know Mikhail made it out?"

"Lora's tag along?" At Haze's affirmative, Minoth's eyebrows bounced up. "No, I didn't. I thought he died with Lora."

"In a way, I suppose he did," Haze mused. "He wound up in Indol. Do I need to tell you what Amalthus, mad science, and a war orphan add up to?"

Minoth winced. "I didn't know."

Haze nodded. Then she asked without any tone in her voice: "Did you want to know?"

The impossible Blade yanked his eyes to the ground at Haze's words.

 _Direct hit,_ Malos realized.

Haze continued in the same toneless voice: "You were the Praetor's Blade. You knew Indol at that time better than Indol knew itself. You could have found out if there were survivors. _If_ you wanted to."

Silence hung thick and heavy.

"I made choices I regret. I won't deny it," Minoth spoke up. "Those choices are part of why I'm willing to give even a son of a volff like Malos enough rope to pull himself straight – or hang himself with. And I'm willing to let Jin try and figure out how to atone for turning the name Torna into something that inspires nightmares instead of dreams. But I draw the line at letting those two get off without at least a few bruises for traumatizing my granddaughter."

"Mythra and her little shit kicking our asses doesn't count?" Malos asked. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Akhos quietly demanding why Malos had spoken up at all.

Minoth's grin was dark.

"Yeah, didn't think so." Malos snagged Akhos before he could bolt. "Come on, Akhos. Let's get this over with."

"Not the both of you at once," Minoth requested. "I know my limits. Without good backup, I'd be a crater in the dirt up against you," he pointed at Malos, "before I could say my peace."

"You want me to throw Akhos on your nonexistent mercy by himself?" When Minoth hummed, Malos snorted, "Fuck no. You'd kick his ass, and then my brat would start up the waterworks."

Minoth blinked. Looked at Haze. Blinked again when Haze nodded at Millie half staring, half glaring at him. His eyes bounced from Millie back to Malos.

"Millie is Torna's Driver," Jin spoke at last.

Minoth metaphorically chewed on that. "Huh," got through at length.

"Wow. Managed to leave Minoth of all people speechless," Mikhail quipped dryly.

Minoth started to reply; jerked to a stop, what Haze had said visibly clicking with Mikhail's presence. "Good _night_ ," Minoth breathed.

Mikhail waived.

Nodding slowly, Minoth stepped away from all of them. "I think," he said, raising his voice, "we're going to have to go with Plan B, kiddo."

 _Plan --_?

Akhos shoved Malos to one side.

Less then a heartbeat later, lightning landed on Akhos's head. It _would_ have hit Malos if Akhos hadn't shoved him, a fact Malos acknowledged absently. At the moment he had a more immediate concern: A pint-sized Uryan girl barely ten if that had a matched set of double edged knives aiming for someplace painful. _Not_ vital. Kid's eyes were wide with fear, old anger, and a dash of nervous excitement. No trace of the emptiness it took to kill a man in cold blood. The kid wanted to get even, not kill.

Malos side-stepped her next swipe. Deliberately did not reach to steady her when practiced footwork failed during practical application. There was another zap Akhos played lightning rod to. Which was countered by a low powered zing of an arrow being loosed.

"Ah come on, Akhos! You can zap harder then that!" Obrona cheered with her trademark lisp.

"Oh good. You _do_ remember." Akhos's bow twanged with another low zap.

"Most of the fun stuff. You were getting to be a real plank at the end. A total stiff!" Obrona complained.

"Good. Then you'll see this coming."

There was a jolt in the ether. With his back mostly to Akhos, Malos couldn't see what exactly happened. The end result was Obrona crying, " _Oooowwwww!_ "

The girl took her eyes of Malos to get a read on how she could help her Blade. While nice and all, a mistake like that could have gotten her --

Right on cue Minoth slid in to the kid's blind side, raising a warning hand but no shield. A display of trust.

Obrona floated down behind girl and Flesh Eater with a smoking backside. The kid gasped, "Obrona!" and handed off the weapons to Minoth. ...handed was probably too polite.

"That stung," Obrona pouted. Obrona added a string of "ow"s when the girl's investigation of how she could help nudged a little too hard on a tender spot.

"Are you okay?" the girl half asked, half demanded.

"He _grounded_ me," Obrona whined. The girl looked about ready to cry. Obrona rambled on, seemingly oblivious: "Jerk. It takes _hours_ to get back to a normal charge once polarities get forcibly switched. Blech. At least I'm not magnetized. That'd be even worse!"

"Obrona!" the girl whimpered.

"I'm fine. Will be. In like an hour. It just stung a whole lot." Obrona raised her voice to shout at Akhos, " _You jerk!_ "

Akhos adjusted his glasses. "Says the pixie who used me for a lightning rod. I'll have you know those sparks stung."

"Good!" Obrona huffed.

The girl cut off whatever Obrona was about to say by wrapping her arms around the pixie in a choke hug. A second to get past awkward and Obrona gingerly returned the hug.

Malos waited, resisting the urge to cock his hip in a nonverbal demand to get the rest of this face over with. The girl he and Akhos had kidnapped took her dear sweet time letting go of Obrona. Frankly, Malos couldn’t blame her. It had probably taken all the courage she could muster to jump Malos and Akhos. The fact she wasn’t shaking when she finally got back to her feet was impressive.

“I can’t forgive you,” she said.

Malos kept quiet. Thankfully, so did everyone else.

The girl swallowed. “Vandham,” she swallowed again, “Vandham would be the first to say the past has ta stop being chains or else all we do is keep killing ‘till there’s nobody left. So if… If you mean it. About not wanting to hurt anyone again. T-Then that’s that.”

Malos put his hand on his hip. “Right now, the only thing I give a damn about is protecting me and mine.”

The girl gave a shaky nod. With a, “Fair e-enough,” she stood aside.

“Welcome to Garfont,” quipped Minoth. He, too, stood aside.

The village quit holding its collective breath.

“Malos!” Millie fussed.

Minoth, Obrona, nor their Driver moved to stop Malos from walking over to Haze. Rolling his eyes, Malos yielded with a, “Fine. Brat.”

His brat grabbed on to Malos with clear intent to not let go for a good long while. Malos could feel her want to give Akhos a hug as well, and also make sure everyone else got hugs, including Jin who was still six hugs short of his daily ten, and –

Malos rested his head against his brat’s. _Breathe, brat_ , Malos willed.

Sucking in a breath shaky as a leaf in a storm, Millie breathed.

Mythra’s voice cracked the awkward silence around Torna: “So… Who wants a nice hot bath?”

“Father, _yes_ ,” Malos spoke up.

Millie sniffled. One handed, she tried to sign, _Toys?_

...hell. Malos voiced his realization aloud: “We left Millie’s trunk in Tantal.”

“And Zeke forwarded it over once we sent word Garfont was our next stop,” Pyra reported, stepping up next to Mythra. “We put it in your rooms at the inn. This way.”

“Fair warning: They’re going to throw a party tonight,” Mythra stated to all.

“Party?” Haze inquired.

“Its a semi-tradition to throw a party whenever a big job’s been wrapped up, especially one where everyone comes away breathing,” Pyra explained.

Haze hummed, “That makes sense. Oh!” Everyone but Jin jumped. “If there’s to be a party, then outfits are a _must_!”

“Mikhail can go through Millie’s trunk with you, Haze,” Jin suggested.

Malos shot a look at their Blade-Eater-turned-Blade. “You tinkered with the lock again.”

Mikhail rubbed the back of his head, chuckling nervously. So – yeah. He’d tinkered with the lock. Again.

“What do our funds look like? Do we have enough to go shopping? A nice pair of sandals, and – oh! Let’s please do hurry. I can’t wait to see!” Haze _fluttered_.

Malos held his brat and held back on a sigh.

* * *

  


Of course their tab (so to speak) was not settled by Minoth’s little show. Once they had examined their rooms, what felt like half the village cued up to take on any and every member of Torna they could get in the village training area. Patroka took the majority; Akhos worked with the village medics on patching up the wounded. Mikhail went at least two rounds against a pair of brutes with more brawn than brains.

The crown of the fight was six idiots versus Jin. It had been short, cold, and not _quite_ as brutal as it could have been.

Millie tugged on Malos’s armor to get his attention. Giving his brat a look to show she’d succeeded, Malos watched as Millie spelled out, _Fun no_ _t_ _?_

“Jin likes his fights to be fair.”

Millie watched the group of so-called mercenaries hobble towards a waiting Akhos, now joined by Haze. She looked back up at Malos. _Not fair?_ her fingers queried.

“Not even close,” Malos said, fighting off the urge to snort in disdain.

Millie mentally chewed on that. At length she asked, “Malos, Jin,” her fingers adding, _fair smash play?_

Aegis versus Jin at his full strength? “It’d be an even fight,” Malos allowed.

Millie filed the thought away for later consideration.

"Hiding behind a toddler 'cause he's too much a coward," grumbled one of the mercs.

Malos's anger flared. He started to growl, "You wanna say --"

"Malos!" his brat screamed before Malos could think beyond who best to hand her off to. Jin had already been on his way over; he was good at brat wrangling. Millie wrapping both arms around his neck in a clear demand, _No!_ , nixed that idea.

"Brat?" Malos attempted to ask gently. His brat was shaking as she tightened her grip. If Malos hadn't been a Blade, he might have had a serious breathing problem.

His brat pushed her head against his neck and shoulder, too upset to say his name. Father... Was she scared? From the echo of their link, it was more than fear. It was a too complex knot of fear, anger, with trepidation in equal measure. It _felt_ like it had been buried until it had gotten too big for a toddler to hold -- oh. Shit. No wonder she was extra clingy.

"Remember when I said you could pitch a fit once we were behind an actual door?" Malos waited for his shaking brat to sniffle affirmative. "Forget it. Pitch as big a fit as you want."

Millie sniffled an inquiry.

"Its fine, brat," Malos promised softly.

Two more sniffles -- and then a wail broke through the damn. The fear, anger, and frustration his brat had kept bottled up -- because she was a big girl and she was going to do what her Big had wanted -- flooded out. Literally: Fat tears rolled down her cheeks in a waterfall of pent up everything. Snot clogged her nose and started leaking as much as tears. After a good five minutes, the wailing slowed down to hiccups.

Someone handed over a handkerchief out the corner of Malos's eye. Malos snagged it and immediately put it to use.

"What kinda shit did she get dragged through?" asked one of the mercs.

"You heard about the explosion at Indol?" Mythra's voice inquired. Grunts affirmative from the bit crowd. Mythra continued, "The bastards who kidnapped her? Had her at ground zero. Things blew up before her Blades and the rest of us could get to her."

There was a pause. "Crap," was the general opinion.

Malos wiped off the last of the snot as his brat stilled, spent. He didn't have to ask if his brat felt better; he could feel it. Their ether link shimmered, a crystal with the grime cleaned off. A few final hiccups escaped as she put her head on Malos's shoulder.

"Nap?" Malos asked.

Millie nodded, tightening her hold a little more. Yes, she wanted a nap. No, she did not want to be put down. Fine enough. Malos had gone this long without a bath; a few more hours would not be terminal.

A vaguely familiar blanket flapped in his field of vision. "Here," Haze's voice spoke softly.

Grabbing the blanket, Malos got his brat tucked in as well as possible. There was another sniffle as Millie settled. "Malos," she mumbled, grip barely loosening. Rubbing soothing circles down her spine, Malos held his brat close.

"Sometimes, taking five minutes to let go of all the stress is truly all one needs," Haze mused. There was a suspect sniffle from her direction.

Malos dared to face her. The wind Blade was dabbing a clean handkerchief at her puffy eyes. Giving her a _look_ , Malos stated, "I don't do hugs."

Haze gave him a look of her own. It was one Malos ignored in favor of investigating a distinct absence of sound. There was a conspicuously quiet bunch of Garfont natives watching them. "Do you have a problem?" Malos rumbled.

The group dispersed promptly.

"Idiots," Malos grumbled.

“Idiots with enough sense to back off,” Akhos pouted out.

A cursory looked revealed Akhos was the last to join their sudden group-up. Patroka was standing near-ish to Haze, ostensibly giving her weapon a maintenance check. Mikhail was halfway between them. Jin was standing right at Haze’s side, and Haze herself had scooted over enough to lean against Jin without actually leaning on him. The placing looked practiced; which made sense, given their history. And hey – Jin and Haze getting along was good. ...right?

 _Am I jealous?_ Malos wondered.

It wasn’t like he had a Father damned reason _to_ be jealous.  It had been five hundred years; Haze did not know Jin at all. Sure, she might have some good memories with him. The golden time of Jin’s life when his Driver had been alive, where their adventures had been equal parts stressful and delightful, and Jin had had a reason to live instead of sink into nihilistic angst.  It wasn’t as though Haze knew a side of Jin Malos had seen fractured glimpses of. The relationship between Jin and Haze weighed nothing when compared to five hundred years of passive (and not so passive) aggressive –

 _Crap. I_ am _fucking jealous,_ Malos admitted.

Right. He needed to get over this bullcrap, right now. Malos tried to find words as he took a breath to address Haze.

...er. Why did Haze have both her arms looped through Malos’s non-toddler occupied arm? Just as critical a question: Why was Jin giving Malos a smile that brought to mind watching an unwitting victim walk into a prank?

“All of Millie’s outfits were wonderful; Mikhail and Patroka did an excellent job selecting them. But,” Haze smiled up at Malos, and Malos felt doom fall upon him, “there’s certainly room for improvement!”

“Toddler?” Malos desperately attempted. Said toddler sleep-mumbled a word that might have been his name.

Haze’s expression reminded Malos of a cat sizing up an oblivious rodent. Her arms still firmly clamped around his, Haze took off towards the village market. Since he was rather fond of his arm, Malos was forced to follow.

* * *

  


There was a quiet spot overlooking Garfont, tucked away by an ancient Nopon mural and high enough it would take either wings or a Blade's skill to reach easily. The solid rock wall to the rear meant no possibility of being ambushed from behind. Things quieted in this small spot. The sounds of the impromptu welcome home party for the returning mercs softened to a low babble; the central square's fires looked akin to fireflies; even the ether flow slowed down as if to linger and enjoy the view.

Jin breathed in the quiet, trying to settle himself. It was good for Haze to be – back? Returned, perhaps. Whatever the proper term, her presence was a boon once more. Where there should have been nightmares of her death, there instead had been memories of better times. And those memories... did not hurt. There was still the ever-constant ache of the scar across his chest; of the heart not his own beating in his chest. But with Haze here, alive and well, the ache had changed.

_Even if Lora were somehow back... this pain would never go away._

It was a constant reminder of his greatest failure. His time with Malos, Mikhail, Akhos, Patroka – his time with the new Torna had simultaneously sharpened and dulled his failure. It had added a contrast which stung all the greater for all the blood he had spilled. Rex's words at the end had cut through the ache, speaking to Jin's heart, just as Lora's words would have.

Then death.

Then – not death.

His current Driver's warmth was a balm and a spur. Here, a chance to never repeat his greatest failing. Here, a chance for his darkest history to occur again.

A flutter of wind ether as familiar as his own weapon. Two feet tapped lightly on stone.

"You never changed, Jin."

"Oh?" Jin wondered, turning to watch Haze approach.

Humming affirmative as she stood by his side, Haze stated: "You adapted. You had to, to survive. But at your core you haven't changed a bit."

"I'm not so sure," Jin mused.

Silence filled with the distant noises from below hung between them for a time.

"Malos saved my life."

Haze gave a quiet, inquisitive, "Oh?"

"I'm not as strong as Lora thought. She tried to keep me, and her memories, alive. In a way she did. But the weight..." Jin looked at the village, unable to look at Haze.

"Burdens too great become chains when carried alone," Haze stated simply.

Jin nodded, unable to voice his concurring conclusion. It took him a time to swallow down the lump in his throat. After, Jin managed to say, "I had given up on living. Malos found me rotting in an alley. It was raining." Jin looked at his hand; at the memories swirling intangible in his grasp. "Malos offered me his hand. And I took it. I don't regret it. The death I brought to too many lives... I regret that. But I do not regret having joined my lot with Malos's."

Haze allowed the story its due before sighing. "Malos told me, you know. In detail."

Jin nodded. He had presumed as much when Malos had maneuvered Haze away from the main group in Temperentia. The resulting explosions of wind had been full of pent up furry.

"I'm not sure I can ever forgive him. I hold him ultimately responsible for what happened to Torna. _Both_ the old... and the one you made." Haze giggled at Jin's _look._ "They all call it _yours_ , Jin. They all looked to you, as we looked to Lora."

"I," _failed them_ , Jin was going to say.

Haze putting a finger to his lips silenced him.

After a beat, Haze removed her finger. They stood side by side for a lengthy count in restful silence.

The bright giggle echoing over the ether link was equally restful. The laughter was tired and a touch wary, as though their Driver worried their laughter would be cut short. It might always remain so. Or, Millie would succeed where Jin had failed, and heal.

"When I first saw her, I though she was Lady Lora."

A bolt of – something jolted down Jin's spine. He jerked to face Haze.

"She has the same bright heart," Haze said simply.

Jin swallowed. Slowly, he looked back towards where his Driver played under Torna's guardian gaze. "Perhaps," Jin allowed, a faint shake in his voice.

He would always miss Lora. Always feel a piece of himself missing. But perhaps... Perhaps...

The ether pooled in his hand uncalled for. It _felt_ as though... a hand nudged it. Directed it. Eyes widening, Jin watched as the ether condensed into --

Jin dared to touch the horned half mask. It did not shatter. Nor would it, made as it was by Lora's hands.

Breathing deep, Jin put the mask away. Now was not the time to wear it – but soon. And then, Jin could move forward. _Torna_ could move forward.

"Let's go," Jin decided.

Smiling, Haze took Jin's hand. Together they walked forward from the past. And it felt, as they made their way towards where their Driver and their fellow Blades of Torna waited, that Lora was walking with them, too.

* * *

  


In a nameless place, he watches. There is a bowl beside him which is empty of all but the last crumbs of buttered popped corn.

Stretching, Ontos sighs. "That was a nice little break. Time to get back to it. The Moon Base won't make itself comfortable for the Conduit, after all!" A final puff of popcorn is tossed into Ontos's mouth. "To borrow a great writer's ending: _That is all there is. There isn't any more._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending quote came from Madeline. Not sure if it was in the original books, or if it was something the old cartoon added in.
> 
> Holy crap. This thing is done. Its the longest thing I've ever written and posted. There may be an update or two down the line dealing with minor issues as I find them, but aside from that? This thing is done.
> 
> *eyes plot bunnies*
> 
> For now....


End file.
